


Trust, Love, and Other Misconceptions About What Peter Wants

by ImagineYourself



Series: This isn't so bad [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty Schmoop, Because I'm a godless sap, Blood and Violence, But the murders aren't to do with the mystery, Could be murder mystery I guess, Dark Peter, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Humor, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Merc Boyfriends, Mild Kink, Mystery, No Powers Wade, Role Reversal, Romanticism, Sappy Ending, Slow Burn, get ready for your heart to rip itself to pieces tbh, reverse verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineYourself/pseuds/ImagineYourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet in the vic's apartment, both hired for the same mark. Peter thinks it's weird, Wade thinks he's weird. They team up instead of killing each other.</p><p>. . .</p><p> </p><p>  <i>The dark alleys and lamp lit streets were home to Peter. He liked to think he was more powerful at night, but that was just in his head. A lot of things were in his head these days.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to write a reverse verse since I read Orcusnox's _The Boys Wear Red_ (which you should all read, I highly recommend it). 
> 
> As usual, {Yellow} [White]

It was, truly, a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the people of New York were milling about and minding their own business. The weather was gorgeous, autumn well underway, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky—

{Nah, there's a couple over there. Little wispy ones.}

[Cute.]

Peter's hand struck the face of the man in front of him. He was tied to a chair in the middle of an empty, echoing warehouse. Huge windows behind Peter made him cast a shadow over his victim. The sound of Peter's gloved hand finding soft cheek flesh was loud and sweet and Peter took a deep breath through his nose. He smiled.

“Now, Mr. Walters,” Peter began, folding his hands behind his back and shifting just barely between his feet. “Would you like to try again?”

“F . . . fuck you,” the man spat. Literally spat. Blood would have touched Peter's boot if he hadn't moved lightening quick out of the way.

Peter cocked his head. “Now, now, dear. That wasn't very nice.”

[Just kill him already, get it over with.]

{No, no, I like this part! It's fun to play with our food.}

[He isn't food. He's like an insect—]

{A fly! A gnat! A mosquito!}

“No,” Peter admonished them. “He's not any of those. He's a nameless little nuisance and he's caught in my web but I'm not even gonna spin him around and wait for him to decay.”

{Spidey, Spidey, Spidey the Spider!}

[. . . We _could_ eat him, though.]

Peter barked a laugh. “How about this, Mr. Walters. How about I let you go? I don't need you. I don't even want to hurt you—”

“Bull fucking shit!” The man's beady little eyes were boring holes into Peter's mask.

“No fooling, Mr. Walters! I swear!” Peter lifted his hands to show how defenseless he was. It was a good thing his victims could never see the predatory smile he wore on his lips, hidden behind red fabric. He backed away until the glass was right behind him before he threw a web from each hand and caught the legs of the chair. His elbows jerking back shattered the pane.

He pulled Mr. Walters all the way over the window, stepping aside so that the man came to a stop with just two chair legs on the floor, his head tilted out the broken glass so he could see the earth several stories below. A fall from this height wouldn't kill Peter, wouldn't even hurt him, but a guy like Walters?

{Splat!}

[Fat man pancake.]

Peter's foot rested on the back of the chair, the bonds he'd carefully tied the man up with the only thing holding him from falling. He clicked his tongue thoughtfully.

“What do you think, Mr. Walters?” he asked slowly. “Want me to let you go?”

“No, no, no! Fuck you, man! Don't fucking drop me!”

“Oh, _don't_ drop you?”

“Yeah! Don't!

“Yeah, yeah, sure okay. I won't drop you.” Peter moved and set the chair back on all four legs. The man sighed with unrestrained relief. “I'll kick you,” Peter told him, grinning even as his foot pushed the chair and the man far out of the window where he fell quickly.

He barely had time to scream before he splattered onto the ground.

[Now _that_ was satisfying.]

{What he said.}

Peter clapped his hands together gleefully, giving the red splotches on the ground another glance before dancing away from the window. “That was fun! What's next on our itinerary?”

[Nothing, I think.]

{Yeah, we're done for the day.}

[It's not even sundown. Spidey did good.]

Peter preened.

{Can we go home and watch _CSI_? There's a marathon tonight!}

[I'll never understand why you like that show so much.]

“Me neither.” Peter gathered up his wits about him and left the warehouse, slinging his way towards his nest. It was the penthouse of an old apartment building which Peter bought out as soon as he was able to afford it. Useful and out of the way, Peter couldn't ask for a better home.

{It's science and it's cool! We like science, don't we?}

“Yeah, but it's not real science. It's science fiction. And not even the good kind.”

Peter made his way home, collapsing on his couch with a tub of ice cream snuggled into one arm. At Yellow's insistence, despite both Peter and White complaining, Peter watched _CSI_ , pointing out all the flaws in the science and figuring out the criminal halfway through. White was amused. Yellow was pleased. Peter just ate his ice cream.

Nighttime rolled around and when Peter glanced at the clock he realized he was running late.

{We gotta hurry!}

[It's two minutes to nine. How fast can we get there?]

“I could go faster if the two of you would shut up,” Peter hissed. He left his apartment in a rush but he swung his way through the city with ease. He would be a couple of minutes late, but it should be fine.

The dark alleys and lamp lit streets were home to Peter. He liked to think he was more powerful at night, but that was just in his head. A lot of things were in his head these days.

{There she is! I see her!}

Peter came to a halt atop the roof of the hospital. He could see her just leaving the building, glancing around and clutching her sweater around her body.

Watching, unsmiling, Peter followed her block by block. He crawled along walls, swung his way across intersections. He was far enough behind her that she'd never notice him, and she hadn't ever noticed him in the more than two years he'd been following her home.

[Two years already, it feels like forever.]

{Two years is nothing, we're gonna be with Spidey for the rest of his life.}

[Who knows how long that'll be.]

Peter frowned to himself. He lost track of his mark for a moment as he got caught up in thinking about White's insinuation.

[Hey, eyes on the prize.]

{We got a job here!}

“Right, job.” Peter glanced around and found the woman right where he expected her to be. They had about two blocks left before the bus stop that she needed and when she arrived, Peter hung around in the shadows, waiting for the bus.

When it arrived, brakes squeaking, Peter grimaced. But he dutifully followed the bus all the way along its journey until she left the relative safety of the inside. She had just three blocks until she hit home. Two. One.

Yellow sighed in relief. {Another night, another safe trip.}

[She's never run into trouble as long as we've been watching her. Why do we bother?]

“Because,” Peter snapped, “she has to be safe.”

{She's the only thing little Petey has left to care about!}

[Right. Maybe you should stop caring about her.]

{That might not be bad.}

“I don't care what you two think.” Peter swung off down the street once she disappeared into her little duplex. Peter bet it was warm inside. The yellow light that came through the window every time she got home was so inviting. It was cold outside.

[We have our own nest.]

{It's a good nest.}

“I know, I know.” Peter brushed the thoughts off like dust from his shoulders. He heard sirens in the distance and smiled to himself. “Who wants to go hunting?”

{I do!}

[Sure.]

Peter grinned and it was feral. “Yo ho, yo ho, a hunting we will go,” he sang quietly, changing direction.

 

. . .

 

Peter had a job. A job he was happy about. All he needed to do was kill some guy who must have done something wrong and he was getting paid twice his normal rate. When the client suggested the price, Peter was a little astounded, but he wasn't going to say no.

So he was on his way across the city, knowing exactly where he was going with White's directions in his head. Yellow was singing something off-key, but Peter couldn't even care. He was just glad to be doing work in the deep cover of night.

He arrived at the mark's apartment, sneaking inside silently and with a wide grin. A light was on in the bedroom and he all but shivered in anticipation as he crawled along the ceiling.

A sound stopped him short.

A muffled moan.

Peter made a face and backed away to think.

{Is he really . . ?}

[Sounds like it. Gross.]

{Really gross.}

Peter shook his head and crept forward, poking his head under the door frame to see what the situation was actually like. If this guy was doing the nasty—God forbid with someone else—it might get in the way of Peter's plans. He liked them to suffer before he killed them. Most clients didn't tell him one way or another, so Peter took creative liberty.

When Peter finally looked into the room, he was shocked into stillness.

Someone had gotten there first.

The victim was tied up on the floor, his wrists and ankles bound, tape over his mouth.

{WHO THE FRICK—!} Yellow thundered. Peter might have winced but his eyes were too wide.

“Do _you_ know who we're waiting for? I bet you don't. I bet you had no idea that you were gonna get it tonight, did you?”

The voice came from the corner of the room and Peter moved around until he could see. The thing—the man—who had taken his kill was wearing a gray coat over ratty jeans. He had a knife in his hand that he was toying with. Under his coat, Peter could tell there was a holster for a gun along with one around his thigh. He was looking down, at the knife, and his hair was shaved close to his skin.

He glanced up, at the vic, and Peter almost gasped.

{Okay, I forgive him, whoever he is.}

[What? Forgive? What are you saying, he's stealing our mark!]

{Yeah but look at how _hot_ he is.}

And boy he sure was. Peter might have licked his lips, fingers twitching. Chiseled looks, despite what appeared to be a broken nose, and when Peter looked really closely he could see the wrinkled and rough edges of burn scars on most of his face.

Peter shook himself and dropped to the floor. “Hey,” he started.

The scarred man—{Hunk!}—stood and threw the knife. Peter dodged easily and held his hands up.

“Whoa there big guy! Yikes, you're taller than I thought,” Peter mused.

“Who the fuck are you?” A gun was pointed at Peter's head and he just smiled underneath his mask.

“Hello, pleasure to meet you. I'm the Spider and this is _my_ mark.” Peter gestured at the vic.

The scarred guy barely glanced at the tied up man. “Uh-huh. I was hired to—”

“Wait, what? No way, I was hired to kill him! He's mine!”

“You?” Pretty brown eyes narrowed on Peter. “You look like a weirdo in spandex.”

“A weirdo?”

[He did not.]

{We do wear a lot of spandex.}

“That's not the point! My dude, my bro, this little garbage heap is my target. I'm gonna kill him, if you don't mind, because I'd like to get paid.” Peter turned to the vic, who was struggling, watching the conversation with wide eyes.

“I don't think so.” The scarred man lunged but Peter was faster, he spun around, webbed the guy's hands, and then pushed him to the floor.

Peter tutted. “That's no way to treat a lady.”

{We're no lady!}

[We have a dick, Spidey, surely you remember that much.]

“I'm joking around, guys! Jeez, can it, would you? And you,” he paused to point at the scarred man, “sit there quietly. I'll kill you later.”

“No can do, baby boy. I'm here to make sure that shit stain doesn't die tonight.”

[Baby boy? What in the heck?]

{I kinda like it.}

The guy was getting up, trying to free his hands from the webs. Peter cocked his head, thinking. “Hang on. You were hired to keep him alive?”

“Yeah,” the man huffed, having trouble. “That's what I said, ain't it?”

Peter pursed his lips. He looked at the vic, hands on his hips. He hummed in contemplation. “But I was hired to kill this guy.”

“I guess.”

“Is he special?”

The scarred man stopped struggling and looked at Peter. “What?”

“Is he special enough to warrant two people on the same night being hired, one to kill him and one to protect him. Doesn't that seem odd?” Peter tapped his chin with his fingers.

{You know . . .}

[That is strange. I don't think this has ever happened before. Anyway, we looked this guy up, right?]

“Yeah, we did. He's a nobody. Just some schmuck.”

[So who would want him dead?]

{And who would want him alive?}

[We were offered a pretty sum.]

“We were. Hey, hot guy, how much were you paid?” Peter asked, turning fully towards the gunman, who still hadn't freed himself. He wasn't likely to, either, Peter's webs were special, just like the man himself.

“A hundred thousand. Why? You think we were set up?”

“A hundred thousand! Boys, he's getting paid the same as us!”

“Who are you talking to?” That scarred face was watching him warily but Peter paid no mind.

He flippantly waved a hand. “So, paid the same amount for this loser nobody cares about.” Kicking the vic lightly resulted in a scared moan and Peter grinned before he caught back up with his own thoughts.

[Are you thinking what I'm thinking?]

{Share with the class?}

“He's thinking what we're all thinking. That this was a set up.” Peter nodded to himself. He looked back at the other hitman and reached out to grab his hands. “Promise not to kill me?”

The scars around the man's eyes accentuated the level of stink his gaze gave Peter. “If you promise not to kill me.”

“Deal!” Peter ripped the webs from his hands and watched as the scarred man rubbed his fingers and holstered his gun. “I think someone hired us, hoping we'd kill each other,” he said bluntly.

“You think?” The other hitman looked skeptical. He glanced at their vic. “That does actually make some sense.”

“I mean, I'd happily kill you if you got in the way of my job, and obviously you're the same.” Peter reached behind him and pulled the knife from the wall that the man had thrown at him just a few moments ago.

“Gee, kid, that makes me feel loads better.”

Peter handed the knife to him, hilt out, and the guy took it with a cautious grip. “Anytime!”

{Sooo, what are we going to do?}

[Yeah, if someone hired him to actually kill us, that means someone wants us dead.]

“That narrows the list,” Peter told White with barely restrained sarcasm.

{A lot of people want us dead.}

[Well I'm sure we've killed our fair share of husbands and daughters and families do tend to like revenge.]

Peter smothered a laugh. “True that. So, hey, anyone you know want you dead?” he asked the scarred man. “I've got plenty on my list but it'd probably help to wheedle it down.”

“Hang the fuck on,” the guy started, lifting his hands defensively. “You want to work together on this?”

“Why not? Someone wants us both dead.” Peter shrugged.

“What if I don't want to work with you?”

“Then have fun trying to figure out who hired us with only one side of the story, hot stuff.”

A brow was raised at him. Then the man sighed. He held out one hand and said, “Wade.”

Peter looked at him blankly.

“Wade Wilson. That's my name. If we're gonna work together, you gotta know what to call me.” He looked exasperated and was about to drop his hand when Peter took it and enthusiastically shook the appendage.

“Nice to meet you, Wade! I'm Spidey and the boxes are Yellow and White.”

“Boxes?” Wade took his hand back, now looking at Peter with confusion.

“Oh, they're the voices in my head.”

{Rude.}

[We're more than voices, we're your conscience.]

Peter grimaced. “If you're my conscience, you're really not good at the job.”

{Rude!}

“Anyway, Wade, lovely chat. What do we do with this guy?” Peter pointed at the vic, who had been attempting to crawl towards the window and stopped as attention went back to him.

Wade shrugged. “Leave him?”

[Kill him.]

{We might as well.}

“I don't know, guys.”

“What?”

Peter shook his head and crossed his arms, looking petulant. “They want me to kill him anyway but if there's no need to, we might as well let him go. After all he's probably worth nothing.”

Wade's gaze stayed on him for a long moment before passing back to the vic. “As long as he doesn't say anything to anyone about this little exchange.”

The tied up man shook his head vehemently. He mumbled some garbage that was unintelligible.

“Yeah, he's probably fine,” Peter said mildly. “Well, I'll leave it up to you, Wade, my darling dearest. I'm sure you can figure out how to contact me in the future.”

“Wait, what? Where are you going?”

Peter took a step back the way he'd come. “I've got some day old pizza with my name on it in the fridge at home and a butt-ton of research to do. I'll let you know if I find anything about our mysterious client.”

With that, Peter ducked out. He left the building quickly and giggled gleefully on his way back to his nest. The night had sure turned out differently than he was expecting, but that wasn't a bad thing.

{Why'd we have to go so soon? I wanna see him again,} Yellow whined.

[We've got ourselves a mess to sort out, first, idiot.]

“White's right. I'm sure we'll see him again soon, anyway. I wanna do some digging first. Wade Wilson. Now that's a name that's sure to have a story.”

{I can't wait.}

Peter grinned behind his mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feedback? I thrive on your comments.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more backstory, I swear.

Peter loved the fact that he kept records of every phone call for a job he'd ever gotten. The phone that had hired him for the vic he and Wade had let go had called him once before, almost a year previously. Peter had an address with the number from that job and he had the man who lived there with his hands bound on a chair.

Peter's fist struck him again, making his head loll.

“ _Erick_ , huh?” Peter addressed him scathingly. “You should really tell me the truth, man, because I'm getting tired of beating it out of you. And that just makes me want to kill you even more painfully. See, your screams will satisfy some part deep inside of me that wants you _dead_.” Peter sighed. “But, unfortunately, you have information I need. And the sooner you give it to me, the more inclined I am to let you live.”

The man, Erick, coughed wetly. Just then, Peter's phone began buzzing from its place tucked inside of his suit. He fished the device out.

“Excuse me for just a moment, my sweet. Duty calls.” Peter waggled a finger at Erick before putting some space between them and holding the phone to his ear. “Hello! You've reached the Spider, who can I help you kill today?”

“Spidey? It's Wilson.”

“Wade!” Peter gushed.

{Wade!} Yellow echoed.

[Wade . . .} White sighed.

“How are you, my dear? I'm so glad you called!” Peter continued, bouncing in place.

“Have you got any leads yet?”

“I'm working on it. Right now. If you know what I mean.” Peter laughed and told him, “I tracked the number that called me. Turns out the guy hired me before, but he's not the head honcho of this murder mystery.”

“It's not a—anyway, do you know who _is_ behind this? Trying to kill us both?”

“Nope! Not yet. I'm sure I'll get something out of this lovely nugget. What about you, hot stuff? Any news?”

Wade sighed across the line. “Don't call me that. And no. The number that hired me was from a burner so I've got no leads. I'm checking up with some of my old contacts, though.”

“Ooh, good idea. Don't go spreading around that we're looking, though.”

“I'm not an idiot, Spidey.”

“I know, I know.”

{He's got the brains and the brawn. A pretty face and good taste.}

[At least he's not stupid.]

“And uh,” Wade started. He sounded nervous. “Look, I wanted to say sorry. For almost killing you.”

Peter giggled. “Oh, honey, you wouldn't have been able to. But the gesture is appreciated.”

{That's cuuuuute!}

[He . . . apologized? What's up with that? Who _is_ this guy?]

“Well, I've got to get back to it,” Peter told Wade. “Guy can't torture himself, can he?” He laughed a little maniacally.

To his surprise, Wade chuckled. “Yeah. I'll call if I have any more leads.”

“Sounds good, Mister Wilson. Smell ya later!”

Peter hung up, stashed his phone again, and returned to the tied up man. Erick was watching him with half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily.

“So, Erick. Ready to chat, yet?”

“I got nothin' for you,” the guy replied.

“Is that so?” Peter cocked his head and placed one hand on Erick's shoulder. He leaned in real close to his face, his other hand a fist, just waiting to hit him. “You really want to die for this guy?” he asked.

Erick's face faltered. He looked away. “I don't know who it was okay? Number was blocked, he paid me just to call you.”

“He? So you at least know it's some guy.”

“I don't know, I guess? He had a really deep voice, sounded real official and all. Like the kind of guy that could pull a lot of strings. And he paid me a lot.”

Peter retreated a step, pursing his lips. “A lot, hmm? Sounds about right.” Peter patted Erick's head. “Thanks, buddy. You think of anything else, or he calls again, you call me. Got it?” At Erick's frantic nod, Peter smiled and started heading out.

“Wait!”

“Yes?”

“Aren't you gonna untie me?”

Peter laughed over his shoulder. He opened a window and turned back just enough to say, “Of course not!” before he crawled out and started making his way across the city. It was nearing time for the hospital to change shifts and Peter had places to be.

 

. . .

 

Two weeks went by and Peter hadn't found another clue. Wade was also drawing up blanks. The two had been communicating by phone every few days to check, but they had nothing.

Peter was watching the bus stop when his phone rang and he took his eyes off his mark for just a few seconds to get the phone out and answer with a curt, “Spider, mercenary extraordinaire.” Then his gaze was back on the woman, wearing her favorite sweater again and almost shivering in the night's chill. Peter hoped she'd start bringing a coat to the hospital soon.

“It's Wade.”

“Ah, my darling. Now's not a great time.” Peter's voice was serious, his mouth set in a flat line as he watched the bus pull up. There was some not very nice looking dude who had been eyeing up the people at the bus stop. Peter hoped for his sake that he didn't try to start anything. He was in a fragile mood.

“I need to ask a favor.”

“A favor? What kind?”

Wade took an audible breath. “I need your help with a job. I'll split the cash, fifty-fifty.”

{A job?}

[We're good at jobs.]

{She's getting on the bus, don't lose her.}

“I won't!” Peter hissed. He swung down from his perch atop a building and followed the bus, watching the windows carefully.

“Oh.”

Wade's voice almost startled Peter and he quickly said, “No, not you, Wade. What's the job?”

“If this isn't a good time—”

“What's the job?” Peter asked again.

“It's a two part. First, we'll need to steal back something that was stolen from my client. Second, we'll have to scare off the guy who stole it, without killing him.”

“No killing?” Peter whined. There was movement in the bus as he watched, the suspicious guy was moving seats. Peter quickly swung himself in such a way that landed him right on top of the bus, causing the people inside to panic a little bit. He hoped that would be enough to deter the guy from whatever he was planning.

“No killing,” Wade confirmed. “But I could use someone who can walk on walls to get inside and get the—the prize.”

“Alright. When and where?”

“I'll text you the address. Meet in half an hour.”

Peter clicked his tongue. “Might be a little late, I'm finishing up a bit of business.”

“Fine, just don't take too long.”

“Never do, sweetie pie.”

Peter could almost hear Wade roll his eyes. “Uh-huh. See you soon.”

Hanging up the phone, Peter kicked the roof of the bus for good measure before he started swinging above it once again, getting a better view of the inside. Everything looked okay. She was safe.

Peter watched her all the way home and he watched her step in, turn on the lights. He was about to leave when she stepped back outside, looking around. Peter was across the street, hidden in shadows where she'd never be able to see him.

“Peter?”

Her voice was soft but it carried on the breeze to him. Peter shivered and turned away, leaving without a backwards glance.

{Do you think she knows?} Yellow asked, very softly.

[No.]

{Okay . . .}

“Doesn't matter. Wade wants our help now. We'll help him out.”

[Why? We don't care about him.]

“No, but having allies isn't a terrible idea. We can use him.”

[Hmm. Use him.]

{I can think of a few good uses.}

Peter grinned and checked his phone for the message from Wade. He started making his way towards the meet up spot. He arrived faster than he had anticipated.

Wade was standing with a pair of binoculars in his hands on top of an apartment building. He was looking across the street, where a few windows were yellow with light. Peter took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, jeans tight around that sweet booty, and coat blowing in the wind.

“Hey, hot stuff,” Peter greeted, stepping up beside the man.

Wade didn't jump at his presence but he seemed amused if anything. “Thought you were gonna be late?”

“Wrapped up quick. Didn't wanna miss out on whatever you've got planned.”

Peter didn't miss the half-smile Wade shot at him, lowering the binoculars from his eyes. “Good thing. We may not have a lot of time.”

“So what's the target?”

“A little girl.”

“What?” Peter spluttered. “No way! I didn't sign up to steal a little girl!”

Wade looked at him with disdain. “Too good to help out a child? I _am_ paying you.”

“Ugh, fine, you got me. Why a little girl? What did she do?”

“Nothing. Her father apparently kidnapped her from his ex-wife. She's hired me to get the girl back and make sure the father stays far, far away.” Wade lifted the binoculars again, pointing with one hand at a lit window in the building across the way. “Fifth floor, third window from the left. That's your ticket in. I'm told he's a mean bastard so I want you to go in quiet and get the girl out while I distract him at the door.”

“That's it?”

{Easy.}

[Peasy.]

“Lemon squeezy,” Peter finished.

Wade nodded. “Might get into a little tussle or something. Getting the girl out safe is our priority.”

Peter, reluctantly, hummed his acknowledgment. He took two steps back and Wade looked at him but Peter just ran forward and jumped. He ignored Wade's shout and swung across the street to the other apartment building. He crawled along the wall until he found the right window and looked up to see Wade moving towards the building.

Peter smiled and settled in to wait.

[I can't believe we're going to _save_ someone.]

“I know. Feels weird.”

{We haven't saved anyone in a long time.}

Peter's head tilted. He was confused. “When did we ever save people?”

[Well, you saved people. We didn't. We weren't there yet, remember?]

{It was a long time ago. Weird to think Spidey had a life before us.}

“I guess you're right. I forget what I used to be.”

[That's okay. You're not that anymore.]

{Yeah, now you have us.}

[And together, we're the Spider.]

Grinning, Peter nodded his head. “Right!”

He heard a little commotion inside and poked his head by the glass to look into the apartment. The inside was messy, a TV on a dresser lit up a bedroom. Peter could see through the open door a man moving around the rest of the apartment.

He didn't see a child.

Wade's voice was clear and Peter reached out a hand to pull the window up, glad that it was unlocked. He clambered inside, feet nearly silent. The TV didn't have sound on, but the light flashing bothered Peter's eyes and he looked around carefully.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Look,” Wade's voice said, “I'm just saying some of the neighbors have been complaining.”

“About what? I haven't done anything wrong!”

Peter glanced towards the front of the apartment and saw the back of the man. He was burly, larger than even Wade, but he'd be no match for the merc, Peter knew. Besides, if anything went wrong, Peter was there.

“The noise, the smell, you name it, buddy.”

“The smell! What smell? What the hell is wrong with how my apartment smells?”

Sounds of sniffling drew Peter further into the apartment and towards a second bedroom. The door was open and he slid around the corner to see a mattress on the floor with a small girl on top, curled up with her hands over her face. She was the source of the sniffling.

Peter approached her quietly. “Hey,” he whispered, startling her.

“Who are you?” she asked in a whisper as she sat up quickly, scooting away from him.

“I'm—I'm Peter.”

{Spidey!}

[What the heck is wrong with you?]

“Shh,” Peter cooed, both to the boxes and the little girl. “What's your name?”

“Clarissa,” she muttered.

“Okay, Clarissa. Your mom wants you to come home. Do you want to go home to your mom?”

She looked surprised. “Mommy? Is she looking for me?”

Peter nodded and told her, “Yeah, she's been looking for you. That's why I'm here. I found you so I can bring you back.”

“Okay. I miss her. I don't like Daddy.”

“I don't like him either.” Peter almost laughed. He took a step closer to her but she shied away.

“I don't know you,” she said softly.

Peter smiled and he reached up slowly to take his mask off. The boxes both screamed at him not to, but Peter did it anyway. He handed her the mask. “I'm Peter, like I said. Just a guy who wants to help you get back to your mom, okay?”

Clarissa examined the mask and then his face. “Okay.”

Peter moved slow and picked her up, holding her against his hip. She held onto his mask with one hand and wrapped her little arms around his neck. Peter snuck from the room just as he heard the front door slam closed.

“Claire?”

The girl shivered in Peter's arms and he breathed into her ear, “It's okay. Don't be scared.”

A crash startled them both and Peter heard the sounds of a struggle. He glanced around the corner and saw Wade wrestling the girl's father. Quickly, Peter moved to the other bedroom and to the window. He crawled out just as he heard a loud thump and some grunting and made his way to the roof where he set the girl down and sat beside her, legs crossed.

She immediately plopped into his lap. “Are we going to Mommy's house?”

“Yep. We will. My friend is just talking to your dad and then we're going to take you home.”

“Thank you, Peter.” She looked at him with big doe eyes and Peter couldn't help but smile at her. She held out his mask. “You can have this back. You're like a superhero, right?”

Peter laughed quietly. “Yeah, something like that. Thanks, kid.” He slid the mask back on and they only had to wait another couple of minutes before the door from the stairs opened behind them and admitted Wade to the roof.

Clarissa clutched at Peter, hiding from him. “Who's that?”

“That's my friend!” Peter told her. “His name is Wade. Wade, meet Clarissa.”

Wade smiled at her and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart. Spidey here taking care of you?”

Tentatively, Clarissa took Wade's hand and shook it as Peter stood and helped her up, too. “What happened to your face?”

Wade glanced at Peter but he was chuckling at the bluntness of her question. “I got caught in a fire when I was younger. These are just scars.”

“Oh. Can we go now, Peter?” Clarissa turned to look up at him and Peter gathered her up.

“Sure. Lead the way, Wade. She's ready to go home.”

“Of course, _Peter_ ,” Wade muttered. He grinned.

[Well that's flippin' great.]

{Ooh I like it when he says it like that. Been too long since anyone has said that name, and now by three people tonight!}

[Shut it. That's not a good thing.]

Peter shook their words out of his head and followed Wade to the street. They walked for a block or two before a cab pulled up next to them and a window rolled down.

Wade greeted the driver like an old friend and Peter frowned but got into the backseat when Wade gestured for him to. Clarissa sat between them in the back and tiredly latched her hands around Peter's arm, leaning against him. Wade wouldn't stop looking pleased as pie.

The drive lasted half an hour and Peter himself was feeling pretty sleepy by the time they arrived outside a neat looking house in the streets of a surprisingly quiet suburb. Peter carried Clarissa to the front door and Wade followed after appearing to give the cab driver a high-ten. Peter didn't question it.

He did, however, try to pass off the sleeping girl to Wade when the other merc got close enough, but Wade would not be swayed. He rang the doorbell, despite the lights all being out and how late it was.

A dog yapped from the inside and a haggard looking woman answered the door. She perked up as soon as she saw them and then nearly started sobbing as she ran out to take Clarissa from Peter.

“Claire? Sweetie? Are you okay?” she asked breathlessly. Peter watched, a little amazed.

The girl stirred and then relaxed as her mother held her. “Can I go to bed, Mommy? I'm tired.”

The woman laughed wetly. “Of course, baby. Anything you want.”

Clarissa's head turned towards Peter. “G'night, Peter,” she mumbled.

“Night, sleepyhead.” Peter could feel himself flush beneath his mask and he fidgeted.

The mother looked between the two. “I can't thank you enough. What this means to me—”

“Jess, please.” Wade held up his hands. “It's a favor to an old friend. No thanks needed.”

“Wade, you're a saint.” The woman, Jess, kissed him on the cheek and then started moving inside. “You too,” she added, looking at Peter. “Thank you.”

Then she was gone and Wade was leading the way back towards the street where the cab was still waiting. Wade opened the door to slide in, but Peter didn't follow. He stood, uncertainly, on the sidewalk with his hands clenched.

“Spidey?” Wade started, poking his head out to give him a look.

“Go ahead, I'll find my own way home.”

Peter's voice was curt and he couldn't help but feel bad at Wade's frown, but he was off running before the scarred man could complain. As soon as Peter hit taller buildings, he webbed his way around the city, heading for home.

{Why did we run?}

[Because Petey here is stupid.]

{Oh. That makes sense.} Yellow paused. {Why is he stupid? Does that mean we're stupid?}

[No. He's an idiot because he's starting to trust Wade and he knows that trust is a dangerous game.]

{Right.}

“No need to rub it in.” Peter was almost home, the cold air and exhaustion making him breathe a little harder than normal. He was frowning, couldn't seem to get the expression off his face.

{Your face will freeze like that!}

[You need to stop. You can't trust Wade. You can't be friends with him.]

{Friends get us hurt. Friends get killed.}

[Yeah, just look at what happened to—]

“Don't talk about that. I like forgetting about it until you two bring it all up again.”

Peter sighed as he crawled into his penthouse. He fell onto his bed, still fully suited, and nestled into the blankets.

[We need to finish this business of whoever is trying to kill us and get back to killing other people.]

{No more saving little kids?}

[No more saving little kids.]

“That's a crap ultimatum.”

[You've never complained before.]

“Haven't I?” Peter muttered tiredly. He couldn't honestly remember. He felt like he should have complained at least a little. After all, he'd never asked for the boxes. They were just there after he woke up in the hospital.

{I hate hospitals.}

“Yeah, me too.”

Peter fell asleep, remembering the feel of Clarissa's arms around him and the sound her voice thanking him, using his name. He remembered when he used to help people. But that was a long time ago.


	3. Chapter 3

Wade's voice answered the call with a tired, “Yeah?”

“Wade,” Peter whispered.

“Spidey? What—”

“I think there's someone in my nest.”

“Nest? What the fuck is going on? Why are you whispering?” The merc sounded considerably more alert.

“I think there's a hitman in my place! Get over here! He might be a lead.”

[I don't like this.]

{Me neither. Our nest?}

[Why are we inviting him over?]

Peter was crouched on a windowsill to his living room. He could hear the heartbeat and steady breaths of someone inside. Someone who was not him. Nobody should be in his home. He took the phone from his ear to hang up on Wade and then texted him the address.

“The very fact that someone knows where we live is enough reason to get backup, White.” Peter's voice was barely above a whisper. He was perched, perfectly still, waiting to see if the intruder would move around. Peter might be able to get the drop on him, but it was unlikely.

Whoever it was inside, they knew who Peter was.

{I've got a bad feeling.}

[I think we've all got that feeling.]

The sun was halfway under the horizon when Peter glanced behind himself for just a moment. He'd been coming home from a little recon for a potential job. He hadn't officially been hired yet, but it never hurt to be on top of the game. While he was out, he'd picked up a few packages left for him in drops. They were currently stashed on the roof of the building where no one but Peter could get to them. He'd deal with that after this mess.

He heard a noise far below in the street and looked down to see Wade waving at him. Quickly, Peter attached one end of a web by the window and slid down to the ground. He handed the other end of the string to Wade, who took it skeptically.

“What's the happening, Spider-babe?” Wade asked.

“I can't see the guy inside, but I can hear him. Waiting for me.” Peter shuddered.

[ _Our_ nest. I don't like any of this.]

{Wade can help us get rid of the unwanted visitor.}

[I know. I still don't like it. Only we should be in the nest.]

Peter nodded. “I know. It feels wrong.” To Wade, he said, “Climb up. I'll go through another window and hopefully he'll be distracted so you can get him. Let's hope he's as incompetent as other people who've tried to kill me.”

“You're unusually serious about this,” Wade remarked. He looked up at the window and went to brace himself, feet against the wall, so he could climb up using Peter's web.

Through his mask, Peter hoped his expression could be read. “We don't like anyone in our nest but us.”

“Got something to hide?”

Peter jumped to the wall, sticking with his hands and feet. “Yes,” he answered simply.

Leaving Wade to his own devices, Peter clambered up to the window that led to his bedroom. He waited until Wade was almost in position before he entered the penthouse, feeling apprehensive and cold.

The intruder was sitting on the edge of Peter's bed and stood when Peter entered, pointing a gun lazily at him. “Spider, I presume?” she greeted. A lady. Peter hadn't exactly been expecting that.

Peter relaxed his stance, adopting the easy, usual way he dealt with enemies. “That's me. What's your damage, friend? Couldn't knock on the door like a real person? I hear breaking and entering could get you in a lot of trouble.”

She smiled grimly. “I hear _you're_ in a lot of trouble. That's why I'm here.”

“Clean up crew?” Peter crossed his arms and laughed. His fingers itched.

[That's it. Keep her occupied.]

{Does she seem familiar?}

Long brown hair was held back in a braid and her cool grey eyes assessed him with icy clarity. “You don't remember me, huh?”

“I do.”

Wade's voice came out of nowhere and she spun around only to have him knock the gun from her hand and pin her arms behind her back. She grunted in pain but Wade's mouth lingered near her ear and he told her, “Struggling makes it worse, sweetheart.”

Peter, irrationally, felt a stab of jealousy. He looked the girl over a little closer and uncrossed his arms to take a step forward.

[She's—]

“I know! You're uh, dang what's his name.” Peter snapped his fingers and danced in a circle, thinking. “Madsen! That's it! You're the daughter, right?”

The woman looked angrily at him. “Yeah. You murdered my father.”

“Ah, I remember him, yeah.”

“ _You_ killed Marvin Madsen?” Wade exclaimed.

Peter nodded his head and stilled, hands on his hips. “Yep. That was me.” He leaned in. “Michelle, right? You just want revenge or something?”

She all but snarled at him. “Revenge, yes. I was offered the job to take you out and I accepted because of course I'd love to kill you. Nobody said anything about backup.” Michelle stomped her foot down and caught Wade off guard. He let go of her and she ducked, reaching for the gun on his thigh.

Her hands never made it, though, because Peter kicked the side of her knee in so she buckled to the floor and he gripped her hair in one hand. Tugging her head back made her cry out softly in pain and Peter glanced at Wade.

“I'm surprised that got the drop on you,” he remarked.

Wade glared, gathering himself. “I'm still kinda surprised about the whole Madsen thing.”

“What? You thought someone else could take out a mob boss like him more easily than me?” Peter grinned. “I'm the best at what I do. It's why I get paid a lot for jobs like that.”

Michelle made a noise of frustration and then pain when Peter twisted her head.

“What do we do with her?” Wade asked.

“See what she knows.”

[Interrogation?]

{We don't usually beat up women.}

“What's the difference anyway. She's just like the rest.”

Wade was giving him a strange look but he seemed to accept Peter's two-thirds internal conversation and retrieved a chair from Peter's kitchen table. Peter, meanwhile, gathered Michelle's arms and webbed her hands together before picking her off the floor to plop her on the chair. She blew a few stray hairs from her face and glared at them.

“What?” Peter asked, feigning innocence. “You thought this would be an easy job?”

“I'm not sure what I expected,” she told him.

[She certainly wasn't expecting _us_.]

A slow smile spread across Peter's face and he stood up straight, hands clasped behind his back. “Let's begin, shall we?”

 

. . .

 

Peter was a little impressed with both Wade's stomach and Michelle's resilience. She was hanging from the ceiling by her arms, feet just off the floor. Blood was dripping from her mouth and her temple and Peter was pretty sure at least three of her ribs were broken. He wasn't exactly sure why they hadn't just killed her yet, he felt like he'd been at it for hours but she'd yet to give up any information.

Turning to Wade, Peter said, “We should just kill her.”

Wade looked her over before his eyes went to Peter. “You don't think she's gonna crack?”

“Not like this, at least.”

{Spidey.}

“I don't know, I think she might just need a few more pushes. Rip her fingernails out, break a couple more bones.”

[Spidey.]

Peter frowned. “That's some child's play if I ever heard it.”

“What do you suggest?” Wade's arms crossed and he looked contemplative.

[Peter.]

{Are we . . ?}

“I've had a thought. I mean, I've never tried it, but I'd like to.” Peter ignored the boxes, thinking fast.

“Alright, I'm listening. What diabolical method have you got in that head of yours?” Smiling, surprisingly, Wade was looking quite receptive to whatever Peter might offer.

[Don't ignore us.]

{Spidey!}

“Well, we're on the top floor, right? What if we put her life in her own hands?”

Michelle looked at him with some shock and Peter just cocked his head, thinking. She looked tired already, but she could hold out against this kind of torture. She wouldn't be able to hold out against Peter's plans.

“How do you propose that, Spidey?”

[Peter. You're forgetting something.]

{I can feel it, too. What is it?}

“We let her hang. Give her something to hold onto for as long as she can. If she lets go . . .” Peter turned his face slowly towards Michelle. “Let's just say it's a long way down, darling.”

She looked sufficiently scared for his tastes.

{Petey!}

[Peter.]

{I think this is important!}

Peter scowled and tried to block them out. He pulled Michelle free of the webs that had been holding her to the ceiling and she all but fell onto him, groaning. He and Wade dragged her towards the nearest window and forced her legs out so she was sitting.

“Ready to talk yet?” Wade asked carefully.

Despite the terror on her face, Michelle hissed, “Fuck you.”

Peter stuck two webs to the inside walls and thrust the ends in her hands before he pushed her out. She screamed, but her grip was tight on the webs.

[PETER!]

{Listen to us!}

“What!” Peter cried in frustration, turning away from the window. “What is so important?”

[Check the time.]

{Uh oh.}

“Why?”

[Check the time.]

“Spidey? What's the matter?” Wade's voice was unwelcome in Peter's head.

He was forgetting something. That nagging feeling of missing something important was pushing on the sides of his mind.

[Check the time!]

{I don't like where this is going.}

Panic suddenly raced through Peter's veins and he bolted to the kitchen to look at the time on the oven. It was half past nine.

[We're late!]

{Go, go, go!}

[This is all your fault!]

{She might be hurt!}

The screaming of the boxes couldn't drown out Peter's noise of despair. He held his head against the boxes yelling at him to get out. Wade appeared in the corner of his vision and when a hand reached out towards him, Peter knocked it away with barely a thought.

“What's wrong? Pete, talk to me!” Wade was saying.

But Peter was beyond reason. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit! I have to go. I have to make sure. Fuck, if she's—”

[If she's hurt—]

{You fucked up!}

[You couldn't protect her forever.]

“Shut up! Shut up! I have to protect her! She's not going to get hurt.” Peter blindly stumbled to the other room and towards the open window. “Fuck!”

Michelle was yelling something that Peter couldn't decipher but at the windowsill, he turned back to Wade and growled, “Watch her.”

“Where the fuck are you going?” Wade called, reaching for him again.

[Go to the house.]

{See if she's there.}

[Or if she's dead.]

{Or hurt.}

“Shut up!” Peter shouted again. “She's fine. She's fine. She has to be fine.”

The mantra filled his head and the air around him as Peter jumped and began heading in the right direction, taking every shortcut he could think of. The cold of the night was nothing, Peter couldn't even feel it.

[You made a promise.]

{To never be late!}

[You're breaking your promise.]

{For her! She's alone because of you. If you let her get hurt—}

“I know. I know!” Peter tried to argue. He wanted them to stop. He barely saw buildings and cars as he passed them by. He couldn't hear anything but the voices in his head and the wind rushing past his ears. “She's fine. She's always been fine.”

[What if she's not? What then?]

“She's fine! She has to be!”

He was on the right street. Two more blocks passed him by in a blur and then he was landing on the sidewalk outside her little home. Warm light was pouring from the front window and Peter stepped forward to press his face against the cold glass. His fingers rested against it, eyes caught on the slightly stooping figure moving within.

{She's okay.}

[No thanks to you.]

Peter let out the longest breath of relief his lungs could muster. “She's fine,” he mumbled, more to himself than to either of the boxes.

And she was, fine that is. He had a direct line of sight into the kitchen and she was hanging up her sweater over a chair by the kitchen table. Something was whistling. She went to the stove and removed the kettle from the burner to pour hot water into a mug.

Peter watched her sit at the table and unfold a newspaper before flipping through a few pages until she apparently found something interesting to read. She set the paper down, took a sip of her drink, and stared into the air for a long moment. Just as she turned her head towards the window Peter was at, he ducked from sight.

He retreated across the street and stood watching her for another moment or two before he turned and started making his way back home.

[That could have been bad.]

“You don't have to remind me.”

{Imagine if she—}

“Shut up! Just shut up,” Peter whispered. “Leave me alone.”

[It'd be nobody's fault but yours.]

{You're supposed to protect her.}

“I know, okay? I know. She needs me.”

[Not as much as you need her.]

Peter didn't respond. They went back to the nest in relative silence for once. He crawled his way inside, feeling ready to collapse and not move for a good week or so. The penthouse was dark and Peter barely had time to remember the victim he'd had there before Wade's voice made him jump.

“Where were you?” The question was low, almost a whisper. Peter looked around and saw the man lounging on Peter's couch, looking relaxed.

“Where's the girl?”

“Taken care of. Where did you go?”

Peter bristled. “Did you get anything out of her?”

Wade stood and in the dimness of the room he appeared as a hulking shadow. “What the hell was that?” he hissed. “You went fucking berserk or something and skipped out. What the fuck, Peter?”

“Don't call me that,” Peter muttered. He shied back a step as Wade took one towards him. Rationally, Peter knew that if Wade wanted to fight, Peter was sure to win. Superhuman abilities and all that. Not to mention the webs. Even in the dark, he had better sight than a regular man like Wade.

“Was it the boxes?” Wade asked, startling Peter into not answering. “What were they saying?”

“It . . . doesn't matter,” Peter told him irritably. “It's none of your damn business.”

Wade took another step towards him. “Whatever it was, must've been bad, right? Where did you have to go?”

“Nowhere!”

“I don't think it was nowhere. You were spouting some nonsense about someone. 'She', you said. Who is she?”

Peter saw that Wade's hands were partway raised, like he was trying to calm a frightened animal. It just made Peter more angry. He crouched halfway and prepared himself. “ _Don't_ ,” Peter warned.

“C'mon, Pete, just talk to me. Who was it?”

[Is he . . . threatening her?]

{What kind of stupid—?}

“Are you threatening her?” Peter dared to ask, voice low.

Wade stopped moving completely. He took a second before he said, “No. I'm not threatening her or you, okay? I'm not gonna hurt you or anyone you care about.”

Peter shook his head. “I don't believe you.” His mind was racing, worried now. Wade knew where he lived, he had a good idea that Peter had someone he was protecting. This was a dangerous game.

[I'd tell you I told you so—]

“I just want to help, Peter.” The name made Peter cringe a little. “I can't help if I don't know what happened.” Wade paused and he let out a little, nervous sounding laugh. “You scared me a little, okay?”

“You should be scared of me.”

{Exactly.}

Peter nodded for Yellow and then said to Wade, “If you even try to threaten her, I will kill you.”

“I don't doubt it, kid. Look, I don't know who she is if you're not going to tell me, so I can't even do anything, right?”

Slowly, Peter conceded his point. “Right,” he breathed.

Wade relaxed, his hands going to his sides finally. “Like I said, just trying to help, Peter.”

“Don't _call_ me that!” Peter scuttled back a pace or two. “I'm not _him_.”

[Not anymore.]

“Not anymore,” Peter echoed.

“Who are _you_ then?”

Peter was taken aback by the question and Wade took the chance to take one more step towards him. It was a mistake on his part. Peter reflexively shot a web and twisted his wrist so that Wade was sent careening towards the front door. “I'm stronger,” Peter told him.

“You—”

He didn't get to finish the thought before Peter was standing fully, commanding, “Get out.”

Wade started to argue, “No, I—”

“Get out!” Peter yelled. “Get out before I hurt you!”

That got Wade to move. He opened the front door and stepped out. Just before he shut the door, though, he said over his shoulder, “I'll call you later about the info.”

Peter waited until he couldn't hear the man's footsteps anymore. Then, letting out a heavy sigh, he moved to the couch, laying down and shoving his face into a pillow after removing his mask. He could faintly smell Wade on the fabric and it made him groan loudly, the sound muffled.

{I thought we liked him?} Yellow asked tentatively.

[He's no good for us.]

“He's too good for us,” Peter grumbled.

{Oh . . .}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me realizes that nurses keep odd hours and part of this is pretty unrealistic but another part of me says I don't care and I need to keep the 9 o'clock thing for stability purposes. Ignore it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready to get punched in the face with plot?!

The penthouse was no longer safe.

He decided to move all of the important things out and into a safe house he'd procured ages ago and never really used. Peter brought his computer, all the files he had gathered over the years, his experimental equipment (and thank goodness he wasn't in the middle of any experiments at the moment), and his spare suits. When he was finished, the penthouse looked like an empty, impersonal place.

Peter would return there after everything was taken care of and anyone who knew where he lived was dead.

He was jittery all day after the previous night and didn't calm until White reminded him of the packages he'd picked up and Peter went about opening them. He had retrieved all the necessary equipment to create synthetic spinnerets. The webbing he got from Oscorp was similar to his own, produced in his silk glands hidden beneath the skin of his wrists, but it wasn't quite as unique.

Peter had considered packaging his own webbing to use in the webshooters but he quickly decided that it would be too much of a hassle. Besides, he wanted the mechanical spinnerets as a backup and it would be useless to waste all of his own silk for the amount he needed.

Using webs was often highly effective when torturing his victims or holding them down, but Peter wanted something else. He was thinking of developing several kinds of webbing, using the stuff from Oscorp and modifying it. He wanted to make some that might be extra sticky, or extra thin and firm, even webbing which could be used to slice through enemies and objects.

Peter was fiddling around with the discharge mechanism when his phone rang. Moodily, he held it between his cheek and shoulder so his hands were still free as he answered, “This is the Spider, what do you want?”

“I've got the girl's address. Could use your help investigating.”

Peter shouldn't have been surprised by Wade's voice, but he stilled. “Did you kill her?”

“No. She's locked up in your building, seventh floor. I checked on her this morning and went by your place but you weren't there.”

“I moved.”

“. . . Are you gonna help or not?”

Peter sighed and stood from his perch on the edge of a table. He paced a couple of steps.

[We still need to find out about who sent her.]

{We get to see Wade again.}

Peter huffed. “That's not a good thing.”

“What?” Wade asked. “Are you talking to the boxes?”

“Yeah. Look, I'll help search for clues but you and me? No longer in business.”

Wade waited a moment before he said stiffly, “Fine. I'll send you the address. Meet me there in an hour.”

Peter hung up just as White said, [We don't want a repeat of last night.]

“I know that!”

{Am I the only one who thinks we should actually let him get close?}

“Yep,” Peter said at the same time White replied, [Just you.]

{What's the big deal?}

[Don't you remember what happened last night? We might have lost her. That scarred bastard is messing with our careful scheduling.]

{That was mean,} Yellow whined.

“Maybe, but I'm with White.”

[He's making us soft.]

Peter nodded and went to put on his suit, leaving his experimental webshooters for later.

{But Spidey likes him, too. Right?}

[No he doesn't. Wade's nothing. He's a means to an end.]

{We helped him out before, though.}

[That doesn't mean we give a rat's behind about him.]

“Hey, I can speak for myself,” Peter grumbled.

[Can you?]

That made Peter growl. “Yeah. I can. You two aren't the only ones with opinions around here, alright? I'm in charge of the body, I'm in charge of everything.”

{You still listen to us. Or you should.}

“I don't wanna listen to you,” Peter argued childishly.

{I'm just thinking that maybe . . . I mean what if—}

[Don't go there.]

{I'm going there! Maybe he's not so bad for us!}

“That's a lie. Look at what already happened.”

{You saved a kid from a bad father, you helped out a woman, you helped out _Wade_ because he asked you to. And sure, he made you late last night but—}

“He didn't know,” Peter conceded quietly. He flinched preemptively, expecting White to argue against that. But the other box seemed to be thinking.

{If he _did_ know, he might help us, too.}

[And if he knew, he might use it against us.] There he was.

{He's not a _bad_ guy.}

“He's not exactly a _good_ guy, either.”

{And that's a good thing, for us, I think.}

“You're being very logical about all this, you know.”

[It is a little surprising . . .]

{I'm being serious!}

“You're like never serious.”

{Well I'm serious about Wade! He's drool-worthy and in more than just that A plus bod. He was trying to be friends with us!}

“And we spurned him.”

[We don't have friends. Have you forgotten what happened last time we had friends?]

“Don't—” Peter covered his ears as if it could help drown him out.

[You killed them! That's what happened! You murdered them!]

“It wasn't—”

[You snapped Gwen's neck.]

“I—”

[And you crushed Harry. You watched him die in your hands.]

“Stop it!” Peter yelled. He was shaking his head like it could get the boxes out if he just shook them off hard enough. “Just shut up!”

[You'll kill Wade, too.]

“No, I—”

[You hurt everyone around you. You're going to kill him if he gets close enough.]

{Spidey—}

[Enough!] White thundered. [We can't let him get close. If either of you care at all, don't let him know. Now, we're going to this lady's house and we're gonna find out who wants to kill us and we're going to kill them first and then go back to living our lives. Got it?]

Peter's voice was quiet as he said, “Yeah.” His shoulders slumped and he almost slid to the floor. His phone had ended up by his feet and he stooped to pick it up and read the address from the message Wade had sent him.

Yellow kept starting and stopping words in his head, like he wanted to say something but didn't know what it was. Peter ignored what was happening in his mind and left his temporary home, heading across town to where he was supposed to meet Wade.

When he arrived, no one was home, so Peter easily broke in through a window and checked for a security system. He was almost disappointed to find none.

Madsen lived in a loft above a bookstore which Peter assumed was either hers or a front for the family business. He'd dealt with Marvin Madsen when he was hired to do so, but he hadn't bothered with the rest of the family or the operations. He supposed someone else had taken over, probably whoever hired him in the first place but Peter wasn't one to ask on contracts like that.

The main room of the place had a surprisingly well stocked library of sorts and Peter spent a few minutes glancing through the titles. He ended up taking two off the shelf to take home. After all, it wasn't like she'd really miss them. She was going to die soon.

Just as Peter was contemplating how to actually kill her, the bolt on the front door slid back. Peter looked over to see Wade enter slowly, gun drawn.

“About time you showed up,” Peter muttered.

The muzzle of Wade's gun pointed to him for just a second before he relaxed and then tensed again, visibly. “You're early, baby boy.”

Peter frowned behind his mask. Stiffly, he turned away. “I haven't found anything yet. Then again, I haven't been looking very hard.”

“Are you stealing those books?” Wade gestured to the two in Peter's hand and Peter flushed.

“She won't need them.”

“She's not dead yet.” He appeared to almost be smiling.

It dropped as soon as Peter said, “She will be soon.”

Apparently shrugging him off, Wade wandered towards the bedroom section of the loft. “Looked through here, yet?”

“All yours.” Peter watched his back for a moment.

[Focus.]

“I am, jeez. Lay off.” Peter scowled and went to look through the kitchen, setting his goods aside. Nothing was out of the ordinary except it looked like she hadn't used a single appliance or ware for a long time. Either that, or she was too cleanly.

{Are you still sure we can't—?}

[I'm sure.]

“Would you both shut up? I don't want to hear any more about it now.”

“Be nice if all three of you could shut up,” Wade said from somewhere behind him and Peter spun around, surprised. But Wade was still looking through Michelle's stuff, glancing through a stack of papers.

{Sheesh. Rude.}

“Anything?” Wade asked after a moment.

“This place is so clean it's like a high class hospital. I don't even know if she'd hide anything here,” Peter told him. He saw a notepad by the fridge and went to investigate. “Wait, this might be something.”

There was a note, to herself it seemed. A phone number and the words “Call done”. Wade made a noise of triumph and Peter glanced over to see him hold up a cellphone. It looked like a burner from Peter's perspective. Then the merc came over to look at the note, scrolling through the calls list on the phone.

“Bingo,” he said. “This number called her twice in the last week, same as on the note. That's gotta be our guy.”

“She's stupid for just leaving this out.”

“Well, she's an amateur.”

Peter snorted. “That's pretty obvious. Do we call?” he asked, but Wade was already dialing and putting the phone on speaker.

The line was picked up with a deep voice that felt familiar to Peter, but he couldn't place it. “Is it done?” the voice asked.

Wade started, “I think the answer to that is—”

“No,” Peter finished, chuckling.

Silence. Then, the call was dropped and Wade was giving a look to Peter with one brow raised.

“Did you recognize the voice?”

{We've heard it somewhere . . .}

Peter shook his head. “I'm sure I've heard it before, but I can't place it. You got any ideas?”

“Not a clue.”

“Well, crap.”

Wade set the phone on the counter and crossed his arms. “What now?”

“Now,” Peter said, backing away a couple of steps to put some space between them, “I go home and continue working on my projects. You go home and do whatever it is you do in your spare time. We continue to live our lives and if I get a lead, I'll let you know. I expect the same from you.”

Wade dropped his arms and his act. He sighed. “Look, Spidey, about last night—”

“We're not talking about that. I'm leaving.” Peter turned away but Wade lunged forward to try and grab him. Lucky for Peter, Wade was not as fast or as strong and the merc's hand was suddenly stuck to the fridge with webbing after being kicked back—lightly—in the stomach.

Wade looked upset. Angry, yes, and also strangely disappointed. “Pete, I thought—”

[Just get out. Just leave him.]

“You thought what? That we're friends?” Peter laughed at him mirthlessly. “I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I'm not friends with anybody. Least of all a worthless lump like you.”

As soon as he said the words, Peter regretted them.

{You didn't need to say that.}

[He needs to know that we don't care. That Peter doesn't care.]

{But we do—}

“No we don't.” Peter said it with finality. “We don't care about you. I'm using you to get to the bottom of this and that's it.” He waved his hand in a gesture which served his point.

Wade's eyes were hard, narrowed on him. He wasn't even moving to try and free himself, he was just watching Peter like he could see him through the mask. Peter knew he couldn't. That didn't stop the feeling of shame coursing through him.

“You're a fucking idiot,” Wade said, voice low and deadly. “You can't help but drive people away, can you?”

[Don't answer that.]

Peter stood tall, ramrod straight. “I'll kill you like I killed everyone else.”

[Just get out. It's almost sundown.]

Turning away, Peter started towards the window he'd come in through, intent on leaving. Behind him, he heard Wade struggle and then call after him, “Stop running away, Peter!”

Peter didn't answer him that time. He jumped through the window and started making his way home. It wasn't until he was halfway there that he realized he had forgotten the books he'd wanted to take and he cursed Wade's name.

 

. . .

 

The next week was a series of Peter taking out his frustration on jobs. He killed four people in as many days, each in different, bloody ways. One of which wasn't even contracted, he just heard a rumor about the guy—murderer—and took his own liberty of the law. He also took it upon himself to rid the world of Michelle Madsen, only to find that she was no longer where Wade had put her and he'd have to look into that later.

He worked on his mechanical spinnerets, completing one which had webbing he'd rigged to be almost gooey in consistency. Now he just had to test it, but he was unwilling to test it on his lowly victims. He was working on replicating the webshooter with his other silk ideas when the sound of sirens interrupted his train of thought.

They were getting louder. Normally, Peter would have completely ignored the noise, except they were so close he could tell they were right outside. His new home was on a not very well off block, but it still seemed odd that the sirens were pulling up directly outside the building and Peter could hear some shouting.

{What in the heck is going on?}

[That's not for us, is it?]

Peter sighed, dropped his tools to the table in a huff, and stood to go glance out the window. He was a tad surprised to discover more than the police outside. In fact, it looked like the whole of the squad had come to see him.

Scrambling back from the window, Peter pulled on his suit and mask as fast as possible just as a voice outside shouted, “We know you're in there, Spider! Come out with your hands up or we will be forced to take action!” The voice sounded suspiciously like it was coming through something metal.

Peter slid his one completed mechanical spinneret over his right wrist, just in case.

{No time like the present.}

[This is a nightmare.]

{Our safe house, too? Is there anywhere they can't track us?}

“Well, hey there Mr. Stark!” Peter called as he crawled out the window. Iron Man was floating up to him, arms out to stabilize his flight. “You bring all these people to see little old me?”

And he had brought everyone. Half a dozen of the New York police force's cars were out in the street and Peter could see Cap himself down on the ground with Black Widow and the big green guy—who was notably not very green at the moment and actually quite small. Peter clapped his hands as Thor joined the party, touching down from his hammer-flight by the rest. One member was alarmingly missing but Peter's spider sense tingled in time for him to catch an arrow flying towards him from the left.

“Honestly, bird man, you should know it takes more than one of these babies to get me off my game,” Peter said scathingly. He tossed the arrow to the ground below. “To what do I owe the pleasure today, Mr. Stark?” he asked, cocking his head at the suited man.

“We're taking you in. You've caused enough damage.”

“Now?” Peter whined. “But I was in the middle of something. Mind if I just head inside for a while and finish up?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“This isn't a game, Spider,” Stark admonished. He held out a hand, his glowy shooter aimed right at Peter's head.

Peter ducked out of the way and sprang from the wall. He swung over, above the rest of the Avengers, before landing atop one of the police cruisers. “See, that's where you're wrong,” he told them, placing his hands on his hips. “This is my favorite game.”

The A-team had attempted to capture him before but Peter was nothing if he wasn't good at outsmarting people, the Avengers included. He'd managed to escape plenty of times and this instance was only different because of placement. How they had found his little temporary home was beyond Peter's comprehension, but it didn't matter. He'd defeat them and move again.

“C'mon, Spider, don't make this harder than it has to be,” Rogers called over to him. He was clutching his shield already and Peter almost laughed.

{What if we shot him in the legs?}

[His shield is the size of a dinner plate.]

{And he's an idiot.}

At that, Peter did laugh. Loud and cackling, he held his stomach. “I love the internet,” he muttered and the boxes laughed along with him. Nobody moved for a long second.

Then Peter's hand shot out and he easily deflected the exploding arrow that Hawkeye had sent his way. It erupted against the side of the car and Peter jumped out of the way just in time, his laughter fading but his smile staying. “Let's play.”

Romanov tossed something to him and—sensing the electricity from it—Peter webbed it away. Undeterred, she launched herself at him just as Thor tossed his hammer and Peter spun around to dodge both attacks and use his gooey webs on Black Widow. He got her foot and it stuck to the ground, the substance almost half up her calf and making her nearly fall on her face.

“Ha!” Peter laughed and took a second to inspect his work. “It's even better than I thought!”

“What the hell is this stuff?” Romanov complained loudly. She touched it with one hand only to find her fingers stuck as well. Sending a disgusted look Peter's way just got him to giggle.

“Spider-Man!” Thor shouted, drawing near to Peter's perch on the asphalt. “Why resist us? We can help—”

“Help?” Peter hissed. “I'm not Spider-Man. I'm the Spider, got it? And I don't need your help.”

{That's right!}

[We've got ourselves and that's all we need.]

{Besides what could a brute like him do?}

[He doesn't understand anything about humans.]

“He's a god, he thinks he's better than us,” Peter muttered. “How rude.”

{Rude! Exactly!}

“We don't want to hurt you—”

Cap was cut off by Stark's huffed, “Speak for yourself.”

“He's just a kid,” Steve told his teammate.

Peter's head tilted and he swung himself up to the side of a building. The way they were talking was confusing to say the least. Usually they just wanted to take him to jail, serve justice and all that.

[Yeah, this is different.]

{You don't think . . ?}

“That they're working for the guy who wants us dead?”

[It's possible, I suppose.]

{They're the good guys, though. Why would they take a contract?}

“It's probably not a contract, stupid.”

The Avengers were communicating below while Peter was thinking hard. He heard someone say something about bringing the Hulk out, but Banner was trying—and failing—to free Black Widow.

{Then what's the deal?}

“Nothing good, probably.”

[We gotta get out of here.]

“But . . .” Peter trailed off. He pursed his lips. “Maybe I can get some info from them.”

{You want to interrogate the A-team? Are you crazy?}

“A little.” Peter chuckled.

[This would be a good opportunity, but I don't like it.]

“You don't have to like it.” With a grumble, Peter moved his attention to the gathered forces just as a disc flew towards him from Rogers. Peter caught it, wincing as it hurt his wrist, but he held tight and inspected the thing. “Who put you up to this?” he asked loudly. “And how did you find me?”

“Don't answer that,” Stark commanded.

Rogers immediately said, “Fury. He wants us to bring you in. Like I said, Spider, we want to help.”

“He's not going to listen,” Barton said as he appeared out of nowhere. Peter waved at him and grinned when the archer waved back sullenly.

{I love Clint!}

[He's tried to kill us like seventeen times.]

{Yeah but he's funny!}

“Fury told you that?” Peter continued, mind set on a line of questioning. “That he wanted you to bring me in to help?”

“Why else would we be here?” Thor asked in return.

“We help people,” Cap told him. “That's our job.”

“And you don't think it's funny that he sent _all_ of you guys to get me?”

{You've got a point.}

“I know, that's why I said it, Yellow.”

{Right.}

Tony floated around a little. “You're pretty good at slipping through our fingers, kid.”

“He's not wrong, though,” Barton piped up. “It's a little freaky.”

“Why does it matter who sent us?” Romanov asked from her place on the ground.

Peter shrugged casually. “Well, some people have been trying to kill me.” He heard Tony scoff and added, “More than the usual, mind you.”

“Creep like you must have a lot of enemies,” Stark told him airily.

“Sure. But I'm starting to get an idea of who it is.”

{Wait, what?}

[You're not suggesting . . .]

“Oh, I am suggesting, boys.” Peter jumped back to the ground, landing on the shield. He raised his hands above his head and kicked the shield back over to Steve. “You're really just here to take me in, right? No killing, no maiming?”

“I don't know about this whole 'no maiming' . . .” Hawkeye mumbled.

“No killing,” Steve said darkly. He was looking at Peter with a relaxed expression even as he picked his shield back up and slid it onto his back.

Then, with a quick scuttle and a bit of fast thinking, Peter was crouched with Romanov's neck under his grip as he choked her and managed to hold one of her hands down. “How about now?” he asked, very softly.

[What are you doing?]

{We're not going to kill her, are we?}

Tony had both hands pointed at Peter and Clint had an arrow drawn. Banner was looking shifty and Thor was poised to throw his hammer. Only Steve and Romanov appeared calm. Funny, since the redhead was the only one really in danger at the moment.

“I don't _want_ to kill you,” Peter whispered to her. He got his ear right up to hers, their cheeks almost pressed together. “I just need a little leverage. What do I have to do to get a kill order?”

“You—won't,” Romanov said through gritted teeth. Her one free hand was clawing at his arm, but Peter was strong enough to hold on easily.

“I won't kill you or I won't manage to get my head on your 'dead or alive' list?”

“Don't try anything,” Stark told him quietly.

Suddenly, with crackling static, Peter got what he wanted.

The comm in Romanov's ear let a voice tell her tinnily, “He won't do it. Take him out.”

Not even two seconds later, Yellow was shouting something, White was grumbling, and the entire Avengers team was shooting something or other at Peter as he jumped away and started making his escape.

Tony immediately flew after him, Peter swinging his way between buildings. He heard Cap shout something about not giving chase with the Hulk. Stark was firing at an unnaturally silent Peter but he dodged every attempt to knock him down. At one point, minutes into the chase, Peter turned to see Iron Man close to a building wall and he immediately went to spray the suited man with the gooey stuff, getting him stuck to the concrete.

A yell of frustration faded as Peter turned down another street and his mind started racing for a place to go. He needed to lay low. He needed to go underground for a while as he figured things out.

{Wade?} Yellow suggested timidly.

White sighed.

“Wade,” Peter agreed grimly. “He should at least know that it was Fury who set us up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else seen that vine I referenced about shooting Steve's legs to defeat him? It's stupidly funny.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: referenced past suicide attempt.

Peter had known where Wade's apartment was since the day they met. It was part of his background check on the guy and despite learning barely anything else, he'd memorized the address for future reference. It paid off, at least.

No windows were unlocked but Peter broke the lock on the door and entered quietly. He didn't actually know if Wade was home or not, but he wanted to take his chances breaking in rather than knocking first.

{Better to ask forgiveness than permission.}

[Right.]

Peter snuck through the little place with silent footsteps, noting that no lights were on. He would have assumed that Wade just wasn't home except he picked up a steady heartbeat somewhere and he followed the sound, breath held in his chest.

The bedroom revealed a messy bed housing a sleeping merc. He was splayed out, belly down, the sheets barely covering his bum. The daylight was muted by curtains but it was enough to create shadows in the divots and under the ridges of Wade's scars. The burned skin stretched along his entire back and down half of one arm.

Peter had been able to read the police report from the fire that had caused so much damage but it only told him that the fire hadn't been an accident and Wade had been barely out of his teens. Anything more and he'd have to ask the man himself.

Standing in the doorway for a long few minutes, Peter basked in the silence of the boxes and the quietness of the room, even his own thoughts giving him a short respite. There was just Wade and Peter's eyes on him, watching the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. A dog barked somewhere and Wade shifted in his sleep.

“Wade.”

Peter's voice was quiet, like he was afraid of breaking the stillness.

“Wade. Wake up,” he tried again, a little louder. He took two steps forward, almost to the edge of the mattress. Wade snuffled into his pillow and Peter had to drown out the sudden warm feelings he got from witnessing that by remembering the last person he killed and their blood on his hands. That was an emotional boner killer for sure.

[What is this?]

{You can't still say you feel nothing now, Spidey.}

Peter retreated quickly and stood again in the doorway, his back to Wade. He glanced around the apartment and took a few deep breaths. Then, he got to work.

In the darkest corner of the main room, he spun himself a web along the ceiling, just big enough for him to curl up in and wait. It was shoddily put together but it would hold and Peter scrunched himself into a ball to fit, resting his head in his arms.

“Wake me in a couple of hours,” he told the boxes, settling in for a nap.

[We're going to talk about this.]

{I don't think I like your talks, White. The last one upset Spidey.}

“Shut up and let me sleep,” Peter grumbled. He shifted around minutely until he was comfortable. The boxes quietly stewed but Peter dropped off to a light sleep within a few more heartbeats, thinking about the way the light had played off the bumps and dimples of Wade's skin.

 

. . .

 

Peter woke to the smell of pancakes.

He yawned and tried to stretch his arms only to find that his space was incredibly limited. He dropped to the floor quickly, did his stretching, and saw Wade standing at the stove across the apartment in nothing but sweatpants.

“Good morning,” he called.

Wade turned quickly, but relaxed upon seeing him. “It's afternoon.”

“Pancakes?” Peter asked hopefully. He advanced on the kitchen, taking a seat at the table and watching as Wade plated a few to set in front of him before going back to the stove.

“Imagine how surprised I was to wake up and find a giant spiderweb in my living room,” the merc told him offhandedly. He didn't sound mad, so Peter took it as a good sign.

After pouring a decent amount of syrup on the pancakes, Peter pulled his mask completely off and tucked in.

[What the hell is wrong with you?]

{Mask, Spidey! Mask! Secret identity! Ringing any bells?}

“I gotta eat,” he muttered around a mouthful. He swallowed and continued to Wade, “I didn't have anywhere to go. Avengers kicked me out of my other place.”

[I can't believe this. I thought we agreed not to let this dickwad get to know us.]

“I dunno, White. I never shook on anything. The circumstances denote change.” Peter took another bite and smiled though he could almost feel White fuming.

“What are you talking—”

Peter looked up as something hit the floor and it turned out to be Wade's spatula. He raised his gaze to see the merc's eyes wide and trained on him. Peter frowned. “What?” he asked, eating another pancake.

Wade made a high-pitched noise, seemingly unable to find words.

{He's surprised,} Yellow said helpfully.

“That's obvious, thanks. But about what?” Peter asked. He looked back at his plate, feeling suddenly self-conscious. It was a feeling he hadn't really dealt with in a long time and it made him uncomfortable. He tried to swallow the feeling with more food.

“You're—Jesus, you're a fucking _kid_!” Wade finally spluttered. He picked up the spatula, looking shell shocked and turned away just long enough to plate the final pancakes and turn the stove off.

Peter felt a twinge of frustration. “I'm not a kid.”

“You look like you're fucking barely out of puberty, Jesus fucking—”

“I'm nineteen!” Peter grumbled, attacking his pancakes without looking at Wade.

“Shit,” Wade breathed. “You're so young.” He sat at the table across from Peter.

“I know! Jeez. You don't have to keep saying it. But I'm not a child. I'm not innocent or anything.” Peter leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms moodily, looking anywhere but Wade.

“Sorry,” Wade muttered. That got Peter to glance up at him and meet his surprisingly emotional eyes. “I know you're not innocent. You've got a kill count that probably rivals mine. I—”

“What?” Peter spit.

“What happened to you? What made you like this?” Wade asked, very softly.

Peter laughed derisively. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

{Why's he . . ?}

[Does he . .? No.]

{What?}

Peter frowned, waiting for White to find his words.

[Does he actually . . . care? About us?]

“No, that's ridiculous,” Peter said, almost laughing again. “That's the stupidest thing you've ever said.”

“What are they saying?” Wade asked.

{It's possible, I think.}

“No it isn't,” Peter argued.

[He's right. It's not. There's no way.]

{Maybe?}

“Petey.”

The name got Peter to refocus on Wade and even he could not deny the concern in the merc's eyes and the way his mouth was set in an almost confused frown.

“What's happening in that big noggin of yours?” For a second, the frown became a tentative, affectionate smile.

Peter dropped his eyes. He shook his head. “It doesn't matter.” He stood abruptly, pacing a few steps away from the table and then back and forth across the floor. “I didn't come here to unlock my tragic back story. You have to be at least a level nine thousand friend for that. I came here to tell you that I know who's behind this whole mess.”

Wade shifted in his seat. “Who is it?”

“Fury.” Peter stopped to look at him gravely. “I knew I recognized the voice from the call but I confirmed it when I heard him give orders to the Avengers today. They came after me at my safe house and I knew something was up from that alone.”

“Fury?” Wade ran a hand over his head. “Shit. Why the hell does Fury care?”

“No clue. Thought you might have some input on that.”

{We're not done yet with this, are we?}

[Of course not. That bastard tried to get us killed. We still need to find him.]

“I've got nothing. I've never done any sort of business with the Avengers or SHIELD and I've got no reason I can think of that they might want to off me. They've got to just be after you and I got caught up.” Wade shrugged and then blew out a long breath. He rubbed his jaw.

Peter groaned. “Great. Just my luck. I guess I could only go so long before SHIELD decided I need a target on my back, too.”

[You don't think . . .]

{What?}

“Yeah, what?” Peter turned away from Wade.

[I just had a thought.]

“Okay, care to share it?”

[Maybe they know who you are, Spidey. Maybe . . . they know what you did.]

Peter's heart almost stopped. “No,” he gasped. He let out a shaky breath. “No, they can't know.”

[They figured out where we live. Maybe someone finally put it together. Who you are, what you did, how you ended up like this. With us.]

{That's . . . crazy! You're crazy. That's impossible.}

“It's impossible,” Peter breathed. He shook his head and rubbed at his temples. He tore his gloves off and threw them on the floor so his bare fingers could put pressure on his skull. “It can't be.”

[If you follow the right trail of breadcrumbs . . .]

{You get to the bottom of it.}

“There is no trail! No breadcrumbs. I covered my tracks. It's been over two years!”

“Spidey?” Wade started, hesitantly.

“You can't trace me to the crime scene. The hospital doesn't have my records anymore.” Peter was no longer sure if he was trying to argue with himself or with White.

“Pete?” Wade tried again. “Can you talk to me? What's going on?”

Peter looked up and realized that Wade was standing right in front of him, hands reaching out and almost touching his shoulders. Peter tried to shy away but Wade just gripped him in surprisingly gentle hands. Endlessly complicated brown eyes bored into Peter's.

“Just tell me. Please.”

Peter shook his head and tried to move away again. Wade's fingers digging into his flesh a little painfully kept him from getting too far. “You don't want to know.”

“I do. I want to know, Peter.”

[Why does he want to know?]

{Why don't you just tell him already?}

“Because then he'll know!” Peter whispered. “He'll know what a fuck up we are.”

{Is that bad?}

[Of course it's bad.]

A bark of cold laughter left Peter's mouth. “It's really bad.”

“It can't be that bad. Just talk to me, Petey. I want to know what happened to a kid like you to make you . . .”

“To make me a monster?” Peter supplied. He looked up again and regretted it as soon as Wade's expressive gaze locked on his.

“To make you so sad.”

Peter's jaw clenched. He knocked Wade's hands away with a show of strength and moved to settle back on his chair at the table. Lifting his feet, he rested his chin on his knees and watched the floor instead of Wade, who was standing in front of him and waiting patiently.

“I had a girlfriend once—” Peter started.

[Peter, don't.]

{Why shouldn't he? Wade deserves to know.}

[Wade doesn't deserve anything.]

{Just let him talk.}

Peter ignored them and continued slowly, “—and a best friend. It was great. But my best friend went a little crazy and he came after Spider-Man. Because of that, my girlfriend died. I tried to save her but I was too late and she at least died quickly.” He blew out a breath that was supposed to be a laugh, but it didn't quite get there. Wade didn't say a thing.

“So in a fit of rage I attacked him but I didn't stop when he was down. I killed him. I broke his ribs in my hands and I listened to his heart stop beating as he choked to death. Because of me. They both died because of me.” Peter paused to take a steadying breath and he tucked his face against his knees, hiding himself. “I couldn't take it. I couldn't bear to mourn them or go to their funerals. I couldn't be Peter Parker for them because it was all my fault they were dead.”

[You were ashamed. You were stupid.]

“So I tried to kill myself. I was an idiot. Healing factor worked just quickly enough to keep me alive so my aunt could find me and take me to the hospital.”

{This is the part where we come in.}

“When I woke up, I had voices in my head and I couldn't bring myself to face my aunt again so I disappeared.” Peter's fingers twitched and his chest hitched with a laugh. “She knows I'm alive somewhere. I left her money one time, a package on her doorstep. She put it in my room, never even opened it.”

“You have to protect her, don't you?” Wade asked.

“I watch over her when she walks home from work every night. Nine o'clock or thereabouts.” Peter shivered slightly, biting his lip. He'd never told anyone about her, or about what he'd done. No one but him and the boxes knew. He felt very close to tears. “I have to make sure she's safe.”

“I'm sorry.” Wade's voice was low. “You were late the other night, that's why you panicked. I get it now, I do.”

[And it's his fault.]

{No it isn't.}

“Yeah it is,” Peter told them. He looked up at Wade to see a stupidly apologetic expression and he suddenly he was angry. He stood. “I shouldn't have told you any of that.”

[Now he sees reason. Wade is the problem here.]

Peter narrowed his eyes. “White's right. You're the problem.”

“What?” Wade had his hands partway up, defensive. He looked perplexed.

“Everything was fine until you showed up in my life. Now Fury is after me, I've had to leave my nest, and I was late for May for the first time since I left because of you. You're fucking up my life.” Peter growled and clenched his fists. He stomped a couple of steps away and then turned back to say, “I had a system, a good one, and you come in with your stupid face and your stupid little girls and your stupid making me feel things and I don't need it!”

[You don't need it,] White confirmed. [You don't need him.]

{It's just us. Getting in too deep.}

“Oh, now you're agreeing with White? What the hell, Yellow, you're the one who was for this the whole time!”

{I don't like it when you're upset.}

[You should never have even come here. We need to get out and get Fury and do what I said before. Get Wade out of our life.]

{He's like a cancer, he grows on you,} Yellow muttered, almost laughing.

Peter scowled and hit himself in the head a few times with the heels of his hands. “Shut up, Yellow, you're not helping. I should have listened to White, I know. I should have—”

Peter was cut off as he was suddenly hauled into a bruising kiss. He was stock still, hands still up, body stiff with bewilderment. Fingers were pushing into his sides, holding him in place as Wade pulled away to look him in the eyes. Peter was paralyzed, to say the least.

It took a moment for his breath to come back to him. Wide eyed, he gasped belatedly. “Wade?” he whispered.

“Don't listen to White.” Peter could taste Wade's words against his lips and they tasted like syrup and amazement. “Don't listen to them.”

Then Wade was kissing him again and Peter let out a soft noise of surprise that made Wade smile and press their lips together a few more times for good measure. Peter was—well—he was slowly relaxing, daring to return the kisses with answering movements.

Wade's hands roamed up his body and to his still raised arms. He left Peter's mouth to kiss at his jaw instead, fingers wrapping around Peter's forearms and trying to make him move. At first, Peter let his hands be drawn away from his head. Then, Wade's thumbs dug into the sensitive flesh on the insides of his wrists and it made Peter choke on a breath and sag against Wade as electric jolts of pleasure traveled all the way down his body.

{What the hell was that?}

[It was . . . good.]

{I thought you were against this whole thing.}

[I am, it's just—]

“Petey?” Wade whispered, drawing back.

Peter almost whined. He looked at Wade through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as he panted. “Do that again,” he requested brokenly.

Wade frowned. “What? This?” His thumbs brushed against Peter's skin again and Peter couldn't help the breathless moan that he let out as he shivered. “What is—”

“My—” Peter swallowed and tried to regain balance on his suddenly very shaky legs. His stomach was feeling tingly. “My silk glands,” he managed to say, finally.

Wade held one of his wrists up to inspect and Peter knew he would be able to see the tiny little spinneret that allowed him to shoot webs. He'd never before had someone touch him there and he'd never really thought about it in a pleasurable way before, always having been careful and professional with himself, especially when experimenting with his own glands.

“That feels good?” Wade asked, almost as an afterthought. He took Peter's wrist into both hands and his thumbs rubbed into his flesh, making Peter whimper, the sound high and needy. He nodded, just barely, at Wade's curious look. With slow movements, Wade lifted the wrist to his mouth and Peter held his breath, waiting and watching.

When Wade pressed his lips to the tender skin, it almost tickled. Peter was watching with too rapt of attention to laugh, though. But when Wade's tongue suddenly flicked out and ran across the spinneret, Peter nearly lost it. His knees started buckling and he was lightheaded from the rush of blood southward in his body.

Wade caught him around his waist with one arm, his mouth still attached to Peter's skin and making Peter all but writhe against him. The merc's eyes were dark with something like lust when Peter got his eyelids open enough to look at him and then Wade's lips were pressing insistently against his own. A tongue found its way into Peter's mouth and he thought Wade tasted like pancakes and sleep and somehow it was perfect.

He was rutting against Wade, half wild with arousal and adrenaline. And _fuck_ , Wade was a good kisser. The boxes had nothing to complain about and even if they had said anything, Peter wouldn't have heard them. He was too wrapped up in Wade, his arms winding around the merc's scarred head and holding him tight. Wade's hands were under the edge of Peter's spandex top, bare fingers touching bare skin and Peter threw his head back to whine.

Wade's teeth were on his throat, at least what was on display, and Peter was going mad with it. He fought for breath against the assault to his senses and his grip tightened ever more around Wade as that large, muscular body rolled against where Peter's hips were pressed against him.

[Peter!]

White's voice distracted Peter and made him grimace for a moment until Wade's mouth moved and latched onto a different part of his neck. A hand gripped at one cheek of Peter's ass and pulled him in tightly. The friction against Peter's rapidly hardening cock was so rough it almost hurt.

[Get out now! This is bad!]

“No, it's good,” Peter mumbled. Wade chuckled against his throat and lifted his head to steal any other words Peter might say right from his lips with a kiss that would make anyone weak in the knees.

[It's not good! Look at yourself. You're letting him get to you.]

“I don't care—” Peter tried to say, but Wade's mouth was right there, taking his argument away on a talented tongue.

[You should care. We talked about this.]

Peter broke away from the kiss to lean his forehead against Wade's neck. Fingers were trailing around his hips and his own hands flexed as he gripped Wade's shoulders, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“Pete? You okay?” Wade asked into his hair, lips brushing his scalp.

[Leave him. All you're going to do is hurt him.]

Yellow finally jumped back in to say, {But this feels like a _good_ thing.}

[It's not.]

Taking a deep breath through his nose, Peter slid his hands down Wade's bare chest and pushed him away. He didn't look at Wade but kept his eyes on the floor. He stepped back, quickly used his webs to gather his gloves and mask from the floor, and turned tail, putting them on.

“Peter? Come back!” Wade called after him, trying to follow though he wasn't fast enough. Peter left through the door and was gone within seconds.

[We don't need him,] White said as they beat a hasty retreat.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Peter yelled. “You don't know anything!” He landed atop a roof, two blocks from Wade's place, and sat with his head between his legs, clenching and unclenching his hands.

[I know you're better off without him. Without anyone.]

“Yeah, well maybe I don't want to be alone anymore! Ever think of that? Stupid fucking box!” Peter let out a shout of frustration and slammed a fist into the roof so hard that it created a nice crack and a dent. “Maybe _you're_ the thing keeping me from moving on, from being happy again. It's your fault.”

{Don't say that . . .}

[You need us.]

“I don't need anyone, least of all you! Get out of my fucking head and leave me alone!” Peter punched himself in the temple a few times though it didn't really help. He was breathing hard, couldn't get his lungs to work right, and it took him a while to realize that his mask was getting damp because he was crying.

“It's your fault,” he muttered, lifting his mask enough to rub at his eyes. His lips trembled. “It's your fault.”


	6. Chapter 6

 

Peter's wrists ached. He had spun a web down in the sewers beneath the city, having nowhere else to go and nowhere to hide. Now an entire tunnel was set up as his temporary nest, webbing allowing Peter to crawl around with plenty of space. All the silk it had needed had used up his reserves and his time even though he'd taken a break to go watch May walk home when it came to be time.

His phone had rung a few times, always Wade, but he didn't answer and the device was low on power by the time Wade actually left a message for him to listen to. Peter lay up in his web, flexing one wrist, twisting the joint around, and staring at his phone as he deliberated.

It was the last piece of equipment he had now that he'd been rooted out from his homes. He figured by then that Stark had gotten hold of his belongings, his computer and his files. He was glad that he had nothing about May in his stores, she existed within his memory as a perfect separate entity. She would be safe.

{It might be important.}

[Doubtful.]

Then again, if they had Peter's data and if Fury told them about Wade, they might find what he had on the merc.

{Maybe they already got him,} Yellow cried. {Maybe he's been trying to call because he needs help!}

[He doesn't need our help.]

{We could save him—}

[He probably doesn't want us to save him now. We left, remember?]

{Yeah, because you were too busy yelling at Spidey to enjoy making out with him.}

[We shouldn't have even been there in the first place.]

{Well it's your fault we had to leave! We'd be happily wrapped up in that sexy bod if not for you.}

[I'm looking out for us!]

“What, by ruining everything?” Peter finally spoke aloud. He sighed and shut his eyes, rolling onto his side.

[I'm keeping us safe. So we don't get hurt.]

“This feel like not getting hurt to you?”

{You're not protecting the rest of us, White. You're protecting yourself.}

[From what? I'm a bodiless voice inside an insane teenager's head. What the fuck can I protect myself from? I'm looking out for Peter here. He's got us for a reason and I'll be damned if I'm not going to keep him safe and—]

{Happy? Safe and happy, right? Good job, you're failing at both of those. Look at us, we're down in the sewers for crying out loud. Spidey has got a broken heart and the one chance we might have at trying to fix that we just ran away from because you won't admit that he might be good for us. For Peter.}

[We're here. Peter's not broken, he's—]

{He's what? Tortured? Damaged? _Hurt_?}

[You're not broken, are you Peter?]

Instead of answering, Peter buried his head in his arms and resolutely kept his mouth shut. The conversation was getting too deep, getting to things Peter didn't want to think about.

{If I had hands, I'd strangle you.}

[You wouldn't.]

{I would! I'd murder you so bloodily . . .}

[You'd be alone with Peter then.]

{I'd take Peter over you any day. I'd take a pigeon over you.}

[A pigeon? Are you kidding me, that's all you could come up with?]

{Don't patronize me! I'm still thinking about ripping you apart and watching you bleed to death.}

“Can you stop?” Peter asked, almost whining.

{No! I can't stop! I can't and I won't and I'm not even being funny right now!}

[What's your damage?]

{My damage? My _damage_? My damage is _you_ , White! You're a selfish, idiot, bastard, pissfaced motherfucker!}

[What the hell?]

{You go on and on about being Petey's conscience and looking out for him and making sure he's okay but it's a load of bullshit!}

“Yellow?” Peter's voice was soft, hesitant in calling out in the middle of a tirade.

{I'm not done! You're so stupid! You're a stupid piece of filthy garbage and shit and you just don't get it!}

[What don't I get?]

{That Peter might love Wade!} Yellow screamed.

Everyone was silent for a few long moments until Peter finally whispered, “What?”

{You're an idiot, too.} Yellow's voice was softer, but he still sounded frustrated when he sighed. {What do you think we've been doing all this time? Putzing around for the fun of it? No. You _like_ him, Petey.}

[That's different than love, though. You can't be _in love_ with this guy, right?]

“No, you're right. I don't—Yellow what the heck are you talking about? I don't _love_ him. He's nice and he's okay to be around and I liked kissing him and all but—I can't—”

{You can't love anyone? After Gwen? After Harry?}

“Don't say their names,” Peter pleaded.

[You have to face it sometime—]

{You stay out of this. Petey, Spidey, don't you see it? He's so good to us, he wasn't even mad about you insulting him the other day. I mean, he called you an idiot, but that was in the heat of the moment. He made you pancakes, didn't kick you out. He recognizes _us_ , and he sees you for who you are.}

Peter scoffed. “A dumb kid who got in way over his head and murders people for a living? Cool.”

{No. A person. A human.}

“I'm not human.”

{You still got feelings like a human.}

Sighing, Peter shifted around. “Yeah, but that doesn't mean I _love_ him. Jeez. I barely know him.”

{So? Get to know him. Go back, tell him you're sorry, and get to know him. Intimately, perhaps.}

“No.” Peter shook his head. “No way. He probably doesn't want a thing to do with me now. I keep running away from him.”

{That's okay—}

[No it isn't.]

“It really isn't.”

{He might forgive you.}

“Yeah or he might shoot me in the face and tell me to never talk to him again.” Peter blew out a breath and picked up his phone. It was giving him a warning for low battery.

{Listen to his message. Just so we know.}

Peter shut his eyes for a long moment. Then, he went to his voicemail, held the phone to his ear, and listened.

All he could hear at first was breathing for a good few seconds. Wade's voice spoke up, slowly. _“Pete. I'm sorry.”_ There was a long pause. _“I didn't mean to scare you off and if—if I did something wrong, then I'm sorry, okay? I guess . . .”_ He chuckled and the sound was heartbreaking. _“If you really don't care at all, then I guess you won't come back. But if you do, even if you're scared, if there's some part of you that cares or wants to care . . . Just come back, okay? I've still got some pancakes and you can sleep in your web or wherever you want. We'll figure out what to do about Fury together.”_

Peter thought the message would end there but after another long pause, Wade's voice told him softly, _“You don't have to run away from me. I know you won't hurt me.”_

The message ended with the click of the line being cut off and Peter dropped the phone to curl in on himself. “Happy?” he whispered and not even he knew who the question was for.

It was Yellow that answered, { . . . No.}

“Me neither.” Peter didn't want to admit it out loud but even with Wade's words echoing in his ears, he was scared of getting too close. He needed to think.

White was silent.

 

. . .

 

Peter stayed in the sewers for three days. He left only to procure food and basic supplies and check on May. Other than that, he stayed in his web, wallowing in self pity and fluctuating between being angry at himself and angry at White. Yellow didn't help much, though he yelled at White sometimes, too.

The sound of someone moving through the tunnel alerted Peter to a presence long before she came into view.

“How'd you find me?” Peter called.

Romanov flipped her hair over her shoulder and stood beneath the nest, looking up at him with a hand on her hip. “Tracked you down when you left yesterday. Then it was just a matter of finding which tunnel you picked.”

“Great.” Peter huffed and burrowed deeper into the nest, not even bothering to jump down and meet her. “Now what? Here to take me in? Get revenge?”

“I'm here to tell you we have your partner and he's been giving us some strange information.”

{Wade?}

At that, Peter crawled to a space where he could poke his head over the webbing and look down at her. She was fiddling with a knife in one hand. “What kind of strange?” he asked, eyes narrowed behind his mask.

“Wilson said Director Fury has been making contracts to kill you. Are you sure?”

“Is he listening? Fury, I mean.”

Romanov shook her head. “It's just you and me.”

[She doesn't go anywhere without the archer.]

Peter raised a brow and asked, “And Clint? I feel like he's around here somewhere, too.”

“Yeah, and Clint.” She rolled her eyes. “I'm serious, nobody else. What makes you think Fury is making these contracts?”

Peter rolled over the side of his nest and landed in a crouch before her. He slowly drew himself up tall, noting the tense line of her body though she was trying to appear relaxed. “Only a voice. We investigated and found a contract number on a burner. When we called, it was Fury's voice.”

“That's why you got close the other day. To hear him.” Natasha nodded like it was what she was expecting him to say. “That's what your partner said.”

“He's not my partner.”

“Sure. Anyway, how about you come with us and we go talk to Fury?”

Peter stiffened. “How do I know you're not setting me up?”

Clint, once again, appeared out of nowhere, his bow in his hand though this time he wasn't pointing anything at Peter. “Because we're not the types to set people up. If what you're saying is true . . . well, Fury's got a lot to answer to.”

Frowning, Peter didn't answer for a long moment.

[We haven't got much to lose at this point by trusting them. For now.]

{Besides. They have Wade.}

“Where are you keeping Wade?” Peter asked suddenly.

They glanced at each other before Romanov said, “At the tower. He's a criminal, you know, we can't just let him go.”

[They won't let us go either.]

{We're pretty good at escaping.}

“Can I see him?”

Clint shrugged. “Sure. If you come with us.”

[I don't think this is a good—]

{Alright, let's go.}

[No, we—]

“Let's go,” Peter said over the box.

They left the sewers quickly, the two Avengers insisting that Peter go first lest he try to off them. He argued that they were in a temporary truce but Natasha's frown had him conceding quickly with his hands up.

{No wonder they call her Black Widow. She's scary.}

Peter felt weird, going to the Avengers' tower. They entered through some back doors and took stairs up. He wasn't exactly in custody, and he was entering of his own free will, despite knowing that he could be detained or even killed at any second. He was on high alert.

Romanov led them to an interrogation room down a hallway of nondescript doors and Peter noticed the lack of windows on this floor. It made his skin crawl. A door was opened for him that led to a viewing room and through the glass, Peter could see Wade cuffed to a table, making a snarky remark at what appeared to be nobody. Peter quickly realized he was talking to the AI, Jarvis, and that he had blood crusted across the side of his face and red stains on his shirt.

{He's bleeding!} Yellow gasped.

Peter growled and found himself banging a fist against the glass. It managed to get Wade's attention although it didn't break. He spun to the others. “He's hurt,” Peter hissed. “Why's he hurt?”

“He struggled when we tried to take him in,” Clint told him quietly, placatingly. “Look, he's fine. It's nothing bad.”

Peter stalked out to the door to the adjoining room. He threw the door open, both Romanov and Barton making noise behind him. But Peter could barely hear them because he was standing in front of Wade, hands cupped around the man's cheeks and tilting his head to get a look at the wound.

“Ah, hello,” Wade mumbled, his lips pursed with the way Peter was holding him.

“You got hurt,” Peter said simply, tone cold. The blood was old and though the cut looked like it had bled a lot, it was pretty shallow and would heal fine once clean. The two Avengers were standing in the doorway, watching them.

“Yeah, nice to see you, too, baby boy.” The metal holding Wade's hands to the table rattled and it caught Peter's attention. He leaned over, snapped the cuffs apart with one hand and turned back to Barton and Romanov.

“Does Fury know we're here?”

“He knows Wilson is here,” Clint said, nodding his head. “But he shouldn't know about you yet. He should be in the building, still.”

[Good.]

{I don't like this. They hurt Wade.}

[We can't worry about that right now. We have to find Fury before he finds us.]

A hand touched the small of Peter's back and he nearly flinched away before he realized it was just Wade. “We need to move fast. Find out where Fury is and confront him. What about the other Avengers?”

“Stark doesn't believe it, Rogers is out of commission for now after Wilson here shot him in the leg—”

Peter turned sharply to Wade, grinning. “You shot him in the leg?”

“—Banner is with Tony and Thor is back in space,” Clint finished.

{Shot him in the leg!}

[Okay, okay, it's funny. But we need to focus. Come on, focus Spidey.]

“Right, right.” Peter took a breath. “Okay. So it's just us.”

{And Jarvis.}

“And Jarvis!” Peter exclaimed.

“ . . . Yes, Mr. Parker?” came the tentative reply.

Peter bristled, feeling shocked and angry. “Even the AI knows who I am now? Stupid, I shouldn't have left all my stuff out for them to rifle through.”

Wade cleared his throat. “Uh, actually, I told them about you.”

“What!” Peter stepped back from him, out of reach and horrified. “Why the—what the fuck, Wade?”

[We can't trust him!] White shouted.

{No! Maybe he can explain!} Yellow argued.

“I didn't tell you everything so you could go spreading it around to the fucking Avengers!” Peter yelled.

Wade was standing and his hands were outstretched. “Wait, wait, let me explain.” He glanced at the two figures still in the doorway, now looking more confused than ever. “Can you just give us a minute?” he asked.

“I can't freaking believe this!” Peter grumbled, crossing his arms defensively.

“Yeah, uh, we'll make sure Fury is where we want him.” With one last look, both Barton and Natasha retreated.

Wade got close enough to wrap his hands around Peter's arms. “Pete, I didn't tell them everything. Okay? I used your name but I talked about business and the fact that you're not just a crazy mutant. I didn't say a thing about what happened.”

Peter took a couple of calming breaths.

[Do we believe him?]

{Why would he lie to us now?}

“Why wouldn't he?” Peter asked in a whisper. He relaxed only marginally, but it was enough that when Wade's fingers found his throat and the edge of his mask, he didn't protest the scarred man lifting it enough to reveal his lips and his nose.

“I'm not lying. I swear.”

[Uh-huh.]

Peter frowned at him. “Why should I trust you?”

Wade shrugged and gave a half-baked smile. “You trusted me enough to confide everything. Trust that I wouldn't betray that.”

Wanting to argue, Peter pursed his lips. But just as he was about to open his mouth to argue, Wade leaned down and kissed him, effectively stopping his train of thought.

{Guess we know he still likes us.}

[Maybe he's using us . . .]

Peter broke away just long enough to say, “Shut up.” Then he slid his arms around Wade's shoulders and went to his toes so he could press his tongue between Wade's lips and taste him.

[We should probably apologize.]

{ _You_ should apologize.}

Wade's hands were holding Peter's waist and when Peter drew back, their foreheads rested together. “White if you don't shut the _frick_  up—”

A low chuckle from Wade brought Peter up short and he moved back just enough to look at Wade's face and see that he was smiling like he was relieved.

“It was them, wasn't it? When you left?” Wade asked. His smile faded into something more serious but he wasn't pushing Peter away.

Shamed, Peter dropped his head. Wade's calloused fingers found his chin and coaxed him to look up again and Peter wished fervently for the very first time that he wasn't hiding himself behind a mask. Biting his lip, Peter pulled his mask off and held it tightly between the fingers of one hand.

“You don't have to say anything,” Wade continued. Peter's gaze was caught in his and even if he wanted to look away, he couldn't bring himself to. “I'm sorry. I should have realized—”

“No, no, no!” Peter whispered.

{White! Look what you did!}

He touched Wade's cheek, eyes flicking back and forth, unable to pick one beautiful iris or the other to focus on. “Don't apologize, that's what I should be doing. You didn't do anything wrong, it was really great and I felt really good but I—he—White doesn't know how to shut up,” Peter said quickly, stumbling over his last words. “And I get doubts and I feel stupid and I can't make him stop but you—“ Peter cut himself off, his thumb brushing against the scarred skin under Wade's cheek. “Don't tell me you're sorry.”

Wade was grinning and Peter could feel it just before their lips were pressed together and Peter's breath was stolen right from his lungs.

Someone clearing their throat made Peter jump in shock, out of Wade's arms, and look to the door. His cheeks flushed at the sight of Barton, Romanov, and Stark all staring at them. Peter turned away and put his mask back on to cover his wild eyes and pink face even as Wade laughed good-naturedly and greeted their audience.

“So,” Stark started, arms crossed, “these two tell me you've got some kind of proof that your accusations are true.”

Peter nodded. “Unless Fury has got a doppelganger, it's him.”

Grimly, Stark frowned and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I've got a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tip my hat at you lovely commenters out there. I gain life by your words.


	7. Chapter 7

The group was in an elevator, silent. Peter fidgeted from foot to foot, glancing around. Stark stood impassively and Wade was wiping his face with a handful of tissues that he had received from Romanov. He didn't have any weapons or anything on him, the others wouldn't allow it, but Peter was hoping that even if a fight broke out, it wouldn't take all five of them to take Fury down.

“Is this awkward? Anyone else feel like we should be talking or something?” Clint said, breaking the silence.

Peter nodded and mumbled, “Yeah, I don't really like quiet, you know?”

“Shut it,” Stark told them.

Clint glanced at Peter, making a face and he held a hand to his mouth so Stark couldn't see him whisper, “Party pooper,” to Peter.

{Ha! See, Clint is funny.}

[I'm not entirely sure I understand your sense of humor.]

The young antihero giggled into his hands. He felt considerably better about the whole situation after Tony laid out his plan and everyone agreed on it. It helped that he knew Wade wasn't mad at him or anything, though the merc hadn't said a word to him since they were so rudely interrupted.

Stark growled. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of me behind my back. Not like I care.”

“Oh, that's good,” Barton told him. “Because I was just saying how much of a dick—”

“I was kidding!” Tony spluttered, turning to him with a murderous look.

[Shame. He is kind of a dick.]

{Yeah.}

Clint turned another look to Peter that had them both laughing quietly. Natasha gave them a single raised brow but then the doors were opening and Stark stepped out with a sigh of relief. Peter jumped up to the ceiling so he could crawl along behind the rest of the group as they traveled down the hall.

“That's just creepy, kid,” Stark muttered, glancing at Peter.

{That's not nice.}

[We _are_ a spider, known for creeping people out and crawling around in dark corners.]

{Spiders are cute, though.}

[Are you saying we're not cute?]

“I aim to please,” Peter crowed, grinning. “Besides, out of sight, out of mind. I'm not even here.”

{Nah, Petey's pretty cute. At least Wade thinks so. Probably.}

[I'd hope so. Otherwise why'd he kiss us?]

{Exactly.}

“Right.” Tony rolled his eyes.

[Unless he—]

Peter grumbled to the boxes, “Can we have this conversation some other time? Business first this time.”

Wade looked up at him with an unreadable expression. “Are they bothering you?” he asked softy.

Shaking his head, Peter replied, “Not exactly. I just need them to focus.”

“Who are you talking about?” Romanov asked, barely glancing over.

“The boxes!” Peter told her.

“You should shut up now,” Stark admonished. “Hang out here, hopefully this won't take long.” He gave a very pointed look at Peter as he took a few more steps and then opened a set of double doors.

Peter quickly flattened himself to the ceiling above the doors, so even if Fury was looking out, he'd be out of sight.

“Stark,” Fury's voice greeted. “What's Wilson doing here?”

“Director,” Natasha started.

Peter imagined she was looking professional and cold and it was a gratifying image. Usually no one helped Peter, but now he had Wade and Clint and the Widow and even Stark on his side. However temporarily, it was pleasing.

“Wilson has decided to cooperate,” Romanov continued. “But he said he'd only talk to you.”

“So you brought him to my office?” Fury's voice sounded like he was frowning. As far as Peter knew, the man never smiled anyway.

“It was the only way.”

“You're willing to tell me where to find the Spider?”

Wade's voice answered with a sullen, “I want something in return.”

{I don't like hearing him talk like that.}

[He was acting a little weird on the way up . . .]

{He's not going to betray us now, is he?}

“No way,” Peter breathed. “This is just part of the plan!” His uncertainty made his stomach roll a few times.

“What do you want?” Fury asked.

“Information.”

“About?”

“You. I want to know if it was you who made the contracts and set me up against the Spider.”

A cold laugh. Peter dared to twist his head and peek over the edge of the door frame and managed to see Fury sitting at a desk, hands folded under his chin. Wade stood directly in front of him, the other three around him in a half-circle. Peter narrowed his eyes, looking over Fury. Something seemed off but maybe it was just the way the guy sat so stiffly, barely moving, barely breathing.

Peter listened. He listened hard.

“You think I set you up?”

Wade's heartbeat spiked ever so slightly. “I want to know the truth. If you give me that, I'll tell you where to find Peter. I know all his hiding spots.” Peter could hear the lie.

Stark's heart was pounding steadily in his chest, hard with anticipation. Peter focused in on Clint to find the archer's heartbeat just as steady if softer and a little faster. Romanov's had a irregularity every third beat.

“You'll give me the details? All of them? I thought you and the Spider were partnering up.”

Wade shrugged. “Doesn't mean I care about him. Business is business. It's in my interest to give you what you want, as long as you give me what I want,” he pressed.

{He's lying.}

[That's . . . a relief.]

{I wasn't worried.}

[Yes you were.]

{Okay, maybe I was a little worried. I can't help it.}

Peter realized what it was that seemed so off when he heard Wade let out a slow breath. He dropped to the floor and stepped lightly into the room, immediately pulling the door behind him and using webs to keep it shut.

“I'm right here,” Peter announced loudly, making everyone turn to him.

“I thought this part of the plan was supposed to come later?” Clint whispered, leaning towards Stark, who just closed his eyes briefly and huffed.

Peter pointed a finger at Fury, who had yet to move. “That's not Fury.”

[Wait, what?]

“Excuse me?” Stark challenged. He looked at the director and then back at Peter. “What do you mean?”

“Yes,” Fury said softly, “please do tell.” He flattened his palms against his desk and leaned back.

“He doesn't have a heartbeat!” Peter yelled, taking two steps forward. “And he doesn't breathe!”

{He's a robot!}

[Oh my god. This is not the plot twist I expected.]

{What did you expect?}

[I don't know, May getting hurt, having to save our boyfriend from mortal danger, aliens attacking New York? Something predictable like that.]

“He's a robot!” Peter interrupted.

Four sets of eyes looked at him with shock before everyone turned to Fury, who was slowly standing and wore a murderous expression.

“Romanov,” Fury started. “Would you do me the favor of crushing this bug?”

“Sir—”

“Now, Romanov!” Fury barked.

Nobody moved.

His frown deepened and he looked between the company. “You don't seriously believe this murderer in a suit, do you? Are you all idiots?”

“Jarvis,” Tony started. “Lock this place down.”

“Yes, sir,” the AI responded. Metal sheets began lowering over the windows of the office and the door, locking them all inside.

“Scan life forms in this office,” Stark ordered.

“There are five live organisms, sir. Four humans and one non-human.”

“I feel like I should take offense to that,” Peter grumbled.

“This is ridiculous!” Fury growled. “I'm not a robot.”

Stark crossed his arms. “Yeah, sure, you're not showing up on sensors which means something ain't quite right in this situation. Spider?”

Peter's smile turned dark and he crept forward slowly, everyone moving out of his way until he was standing just before Fury's desk. “What did you do with the real Fury?” he asked, voice low.

“I _am_ the real Fury! I am the director of SHIELD!” Fury looked furious.

{Hehe. The name's on the tin.}

“See, I don't think you are.” Peter cocked his head. Moving almost in one blink, Peter webbed Fury back into his chair, hands stuck to the armrests. “I think that I can't hear a heart or lungs and that means you're not a real person.”

Fuming, Fury struggled. “Do something, Romanov! Stark!”

Tony shook his head. “No, I want to see how this plays out.”

“Hey, Nat,” Clint said, grinning almost wickedly, “you got any of those electric thingies on you?”

Romanov didn't reply but she removed something from her belt and when Peter held out a hand towards her, she slapped it into his palm. Peter inspected the thing, a little node which would emit an electric shock when activated. Chuckling, Peter hopped onto the desk into a crouch, reaching out to the now completely still Fury.

He activated the shock just before tossing it at Fury's chest where it stuck and sparked. Fury didn't even flinch.

Peter turned his head to look at the others who were all wearing matching expressions of surprise. Then, Stark's eyes got dark and Natasha looked betrayed. He turned back to Fury to ask, “Now that we've exposed you, would you like to tell us what you did with the real director?”

Nastily, Fury said, “No.”

“Okay, wanna tell me why you've been trying to kill me?”

“You're a nuisance. An infestation in this city. I had hoped to take you out more quietly but—”

“Cool, I guess we don't need you anymore.”

“We know who you are, Parker,” Fury tried. “I can send people after your aunt, she's your only relative left, right? Dead parents. No family—“

Peter stood, hands on his hips. “Anyone have complaints about me ripping his android head off?”

“Not me,” Wade said quietly. When Peter glanced at him, he saw the merc looking pensive.

“We could study him,” Natasha offered.

Stark shook his head. “We don't exactly need him in one piece for that.”

“Just don't do too much damage,” Clint said, giving a thumbs up.

[Can do.]

{I have a feeling this is gonna be really, really satisfying.}

Peter stepped back to the floor, his hands around Fury's head. The man's one eye was looking up at him with murderous intent. “One last thing,” Peter began, rolling Fury's head gently in its joint. “Thanks.”

{Why are you thanking him? Just kill him.}

[He's a robot, you can't really _kill_ a robot.]

{We can try!}

“What are you thanking me for?” Fury bit out. He wrenched his head against Peter's grasp, but Peter had sticky fingers for good reason.

“Well, without you I wouldn't have met the lovely, lustrous Wade over there, and that deserves at least a little gratitude.”

{Oh. Yeah. That's a good reason.}

[I'm still not sure we should be _thankful_ about that.]

Instead of saying anything to the boxes, Peter just flexed his arms and then tore the android's head clean off, leaving sparks and broken wires pouring out.

He gave the head a nice look, holding it up and watching as the artificial life was snuffed out in that one eyeball. With a shrug, Peter tossed the head to the ground and turned to the others.

“Well, then. That was truly entertaining!”

“What do we do about the real Fury?” Stark asked suddenly.

Peter was perplexed. “Oh yeah. Look for him? Maybe he's in the tower.”

“Put everyone on alert, if we haven't found him by now he must be hidden away. That's assuming he's still alive,” Clint said, already heading towards the doors.

Peter toed at the fake Fury's head, lips pursed.

{What happens now?}

[They're not going to try and arrest us, are they?]

{Spidey, we should get ready to run.}

“We have no idea when the switch was made, do we?” Romanov mused. She pushed Peter out of the way so she could root through Fury's clothes and pull out a phone. “I'll look through this, see if there's anything. Can Jarvis look through his computer?”

“I can,” Jarvis answered quickly.

Peter started slinking away as he heard the grating over the door begin lifting. Clint was waiting to leave and Peter began slowly moving in that direction.

Wade's hand catching his arm stopped him in his tracks. “You're not going anywhere.”

Peter shrank back. “What?” he squeaked. “I'm not going anywhere!” He laughed nervously. “I was just—just—”

“Leaving?” Wade supplied, raising his brows. He looked unhappy about something but Peter was unsure why.

“You're staying right here, Parker,” Stark told him, looking over at them.

{Uh oh.}

[We might be fucked.]

“What? Why? You're not gonna put me in jail now, right? We were working together and it's been great and I don't want to go to jail—” Peter rambled.

Wade's hand traveled to his shoulder. “You're not going to jail. Right?” He directed the question with a sour expression at Stark.

Tony looked mad about it but he shoved a finger at Peter. “Provided you do what your boyfriend here agreed on, you won't go to jail. Despite how much I want to see you behind bars.”

{Huh?}

Peter turned slowly to Wade, who was looking more contrite with every passing second. “Wade?” Peter whispered. “What did you agree on?”

“I, well, listen.” Wade looked away but he didn't drop his grip. He brought his other hand up to Peter's other shoulder, holding him in place.

“What did you agree on?” Peter demanded. His panic levels were rising quickly and he almost started shaking. “Tell me!”

“Look, in order to get immunity, they gave us some terms and conditions.”

[Immunity?]

{What kind of terms?}

[I don't like when things get legal . . .]

Wade let out a breath and looked at Peter's face again. “They've offered for us to join SHIELD. To work for them. For the good guys.”

Peter was silent for all of three seconds before he started laughing. He pulled away from Wade, crossing his arms over his stomach as he doubled over, and laughed until he could barely breathe. “Work for SHIELD? That's the best joke I've heard in a long time!” Peter was almost crying, his eyes watering with the force of his laughter. “Ah, Wade, you're hilarious.”

{SHIELD? They'd never work with us,} Yellow cackled.

[What a ploy!]

He straightened, still with bubbles of laughter on his lips. He patted Wade on the shoulder. “Nice one, babe. Now, I'm going to take my leave before they actually do arrest me.”

“We're not kidding.”

Romanov's voice stole Peter's attention. She was frowning, looking at him with disdain. “I can understand your refusal to accept it, but we're serious. You two cause a lot of damage out there but if you were to do something more constructive, you could do a lot of good. We're not all sunshine and rainbows, kid. We've all got blood on our hands.”

Peter gestured between them. “And you think—what?— that I'd actually join you guys? Be part of the Avengers? What a load of—”

“You wouldn't be an Avenger,” Stark said moodily. “We have special ops, third party business. You understand that if you don't accept our offer, you _will_ be going to jail.”

Looking incredulously at Wade, Peter asked, “You believe this? You agreed to this?”

Wade shrugged. “Yeah. It's not great, but I'd rather not be in prison. Besides, half of my job is already helping people out, this is just in a different capacity.”

Peter was speechless. The boxes were speechless.

“You used to help people,” Clint piped up, rejoining the group, “at one time in your life. We know you used to be Spider-Man. You protected people.”

“That was a long time ago,” Peter said flatly.

{Could we even go back to that? Not killing people? Actually saving them?}

[It's that or jail.]

{We could escape.}

Peter shook his head and Wade touched his face, guiding him to look at the merc. “What are you thinking?” Wade asked softly.

“White doesn't want to go to jail. Yellow thinks we should run.”

“What do _you_ think? What does Peter think?”

Peter sighed and leaned his head into Wade's hand. His shoulders fell. “I don't know if I could do it. I'm not him anymore. I'm not a hero.”

“I know some people who would argue,” Wade told him, half smiling.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Clarissa, the girl we saved. Her mom, Jess. Your aunt. Me.”

“That's only four people. Your sample size is too small.”

Wade rolled his eyes and used both hands to take Peter's mask off and reveal his tired and uncertain eyes. His fingers cupped Peter's head. “You can still care about people, I've seen it. You're not irredeemable. They obviously think the same,” he added, nodding towards the others.

{Is he right?}

[We care about May still. And we care about Wade.]

{So you admit it finally?}

[It's no use arguing. I mean, look at Petey.]

“What about me?” Peter asked quietly, frowning.

[You're so in love it's disgusting.]

“No I'm not.”

{Yeah you are.}

[You just let him take off your mask. Again. In front of everyone.]

“That doesn't mean—you're the one who's supposed to say I'm better off on my own, anyway.”

[And I still think that. But you can actually think for yourself sometimes, even if I don't like it.]

{Aww, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said!}

[I am not sweet.]

“Wade,” Peter started, his eyes lighting up. Wade was still watching him, waiting for an answer. “White says I can think for myself.”

Wade chuckled. “You can. You don't have to listen to him.”

“So what's your answer?” Stark's question made Peter spin around towards him.

“Okay. I'll do it,” Peter said.

{Wait! We didn't talk about it enough. We didn't reach consensus, Spidey!}

“ _But_ ,” Peter said, holding out a hand to count on his fingers, “I want to work on my own, none of this _team_ crap, and I want my old nest back _and_ all my belongings, and I want access to Stark labs, and I want a stipend because I'm going to need an income if I'm not taking paying jobs anymore.”

[ . . . Nice demands.]

{I'd be satisfied with that. Can we also ask for a rocket ship?}

Stark looked disgusted but Clint was smiling and Romanov was nodding. “Sure. We'll draw up a contract,” she told him. “After we find the real Fury.”

Peter groaned. He turned back to Wade only to find his scarred face stretched over a grin. “And you! I should be mad at you. You set this up!”

“I can't have my baby boy going to jail now, can I?” Wade asked rhetorically. He pulled at Peter by the hips and though Peter was stern faced and still a bit irritated, he didn't stop Wade's lips from kissing his own.

“Sir.” Jarvis' voice interrupted them.

{Always with the cockblocking in this story . . .}

[I think we should talk to Wade before we get into any of this cock business. After all, we spent three days in the sewers to avoid jumping into things.]

{I can think of a few things I want to jump. Anyway, that was your fault.}

[We should still stew a bit longer about it.]

“What've you got, Jarvis?” Tony asked, providing Peter distraction from trying to reply to the boxes.

“I believe I may have found Directer Fury.”

“Yeah? Go on.”

“There is a locked lab on one of the underground floors. I do not have any recollection of it being in use and there are files indicating to that floor on Director Fury's computer that are heavily encrypted. I am working on decrypting them now.”

Tony let out a breath. Natasha and Clint were already heading to the door. “Well, we have to start somewhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bad at plot twists?? *shrug emoji*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take a moment to ask you to please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. This ride contains copious amounts of smut and, as we approach endgame, please prepare your bodies for excessive schmoopy goodness. Thank you and I hope you enjoy.

It took three hours and a lot of grumbling to get the lab open and discover Fury in an induced coma. Jarvis determined from the files he'd found that Fury had been replaced about two months previously, a couple of weeks before Peter and Wade had met.

Jarvis also revealed that the android had actually been something Fury was working on but it apparently overpowered him and decided to take over for good. Tony spent a good while raving about how he should have known something like this was happening within the walls of his own tower. Banner was called in and Steve was updated, the best doctors Tony had for hire telling them that it would take some time for Fury to recover, but they would wake him up shortly.

Peter spent the whole fiasco in his own little world, ready for things to start cracking apart and everyone to tell him that it was all a joke and he'd been played and he was going to prison for at least seven life sentences.

{That's ridiculous. We won't even live that long.}

[It doesn't matter, it's the principle of the thing. That's how legal stuff works.]

{That's so unrealistic.}

[Nobody ever said it made any sense. Maybe we'll get the death penalty instead.]

{Somehow I like that even less.}

“Pete?”

Wade's voice interrupted the argument raging in his brain and made Peter look up from his feet to see the merc's worried expression. They were in the hospital wing of the tower, Steve over in one bed and Fury in the bed across the room. The whole team, sans Thor, was gathered and Peter was in the corner of the room, curled up fearfully because they wouldn't let him out of sight.

“Hey. It's getting late. You feeling okay?” Wade asked, kneeling beside him.

{If by “okay” he means worried about dying in a prison cell then yeah! We're fine!}

[This is fine.]

{I'm not scared.}

“Petey?”

“No, Wade, I'm not okay! It's not fine!” Peter said shrilly.

“Talk to me, baby boy,” Wade coaxed softly. He petted at Peter's hair, the boy's mask still off and currently being crushed between his clenched fists.

{I lied! I'm terrified!} Yellow blurted.

[Stop freaking out!]

{No! What if we have to go away forever? What if we never get to see Wade again? What if we have to wear an orange jumpsuit for the rest of Spidey's life and suffer in silence as he wastes away in some dank, dirty cell?}

“We're all thinking what you're thinking, you can shut up now!” Peter hissed, shutting his eyes tightly.

{I want Wade! We haven't even gotten further than first base,} Yellow lamented. {Or second base? Do the wrists count as something?}

[Who knows, stop yelling. I'm getting tired of hearing you.]

“Yeah, me too.” Peter sighed and lowered his head against his knees as Wade shifted to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulders. “When does the other shoe drop?” he mumbled.

“There is no other shoe. I swear, Pete, there's no curtain that's gonna fall, no cosmic joke.” Wade's voice was gentle and for a moment it drowned out the sounds of everyone else in the room.

Peter leaned into him. “Why are you still here anyway? Why'd they offer you to join up, too?”

“Hey, that's a little offensive. I'm good at my job.”

“I didn't say you weren't.”

Wade laughed and rested his cheek against Peter's head. “I'm kidding. Honestly, I'm here because I knew I could get through to you.”

“They're using you to get to me?” Peter frowned.

{That's just rude.}

[Do they think he controls us or something?]

{That's some bologna.}

“Well, I volunteered more or less. They said something about having you on some list for rehabilitation and recruitment and I told them that you would do it if they offered you freedom.”

Peter blew out a breath noisily. “What if I hadn't agreed?”

“I knew you would.” Wade sounded so sure. Peter didn't think he'd be so sure if he had been in Wade's place. He was pretty unstable, more than a little out there, and definitely a bit wild. But for some reason, Wade seemed like he knew how to handle Peter.

[You have to admit, he kind of can handle you.]

{All of us, actually. Manhandle, too.}

[Can you think of anything other than climbing him like a tree right now?]

{He's got one of those nice arms around us so my answer is without a doubt NO!}

Peter couldn't help but snicker. The sound grew until he was laughing, hiding his face in his hands with his shoulders shaking. It was almost hysterical.

[Whoa, you okay?]

{I didn't think it was that funny.}

“No, it wasn't that funny,” Peter said when he regained some clarity. “It's just . . . I realized something.”

[What?]

“You guys are right.”

{We are?}

“I'm an idiot.”

[I don't think I see where this is going.]

{You're not actually that much of an idiot. Usually.}

“Why are you an idiot?” Wade asked into Peter's ear.

Peter brought his head up, looking at his companion. “All this time I've been trying to run away but I just keep ending up here.”

{In the hospital?}

[Shut up, shut up, I think he's saying something important.]

Wade was frowning but Peter just curled into him, head on Wade's chest. “I mean, _here_. I could hear your heartbeat when you were talking to the fake Fury and when you said you didn't care about me, you were lying.”

“You got that just from my heartbeat?”

“I've got pretty good hearing when I try.” Peter's fingers moved to one of Wade's knees and he tapped at the fabric of the merc's jeans. “I don't _want_ to care about anything or anyone because of how crap it's turned out before. I don't _want_ to have feelings for you.”

“But?” Wade prompted.

“I want to go home. And I want to do experiments. And I want to hurt people and make them suffer because I suffer. And I want to write research papers and maybe go to college and do something with my future. And I want to see May. And I want to make out with you. And I want to finish making my super cool webshooters. And I want to sleep in a bed and not the sewers.”

{That's a lot of wants.}

[The _don't want_ list is probably longer.]

Peter sighed. “I guess if all that comes with working for the Avengers then I'll deal with it. But I don't know how to love somebody. I don't even know how to be around people anymore.”

Wade's breath tickled Peter's ear as he said, “You can start small. You can start by asking to go walk your aunt home, it's already after eight o'clock.”

[What?]

{Already?}

“Eight o'clock?” Peter untangled himself and stood quickly, leaping over to where Stark and Banner were deep in conversation about androids or something. Sciency stuff. Normally, Peter would be incredibly interested, but he got right in between them and asserted to Tony, “I need to leave!”

“Uh. No?” Stark pushed him back with one hand. Wade was coming over as he asked, “What's the problem?”

Peter made a noise of frustration. “I have to walk my aunt home from work!”

The look Stark gave him was utterly flabbergasted and he turned to Wade, now beside them. “What the hell is he on about?”

“His aunt, she works at a hospital. He makes sure she gets home safe every night,” Wade explained.

“Her shift ends at nine o'clock,” Peter told him impatiently. “Wade says it's after eight already and she's miles away.”

“You walk your aunt home?” Bruce asked, moving so that he was a part of the conversation again.

{Why are they all so stupid?}

Peter rolled with eyes with exasperation. “Yes. I follow her home. I've been watching over her for the past two years so she's safe.”

Two sets of wide eyes traveled from him to Wade and back again. Wade placed a hand on Peter's back and added, “He's going to freak out if you don't let him go.”

Stark shook himself visibly. “What if we send someone to walk her home?”

“No!” Peter scowled at him. “ _I_ have to follow her. It's my responsibility.” He jabbed a thumb at his own chest to prove it.

“Why?” Banner asked quietly.

Peter was getting tired of their questions but he answered, “Because she raised me and I won't let her get hurt just because I'm not around anymore.”

“So you watch over her because you feel like you need to be around her?”

“Don't try and go Freudian on me. If you don't let me go right now I can't promise I won't kill one of you,” Peter told them darkly.

Banner and Stark shared a look. Finally, with a sigh, Stark relented. “Fine. You two can leave. But only for tonight! Fury should wake up by morning and I want you both here tomorrow for debriefing.”

{Ooh, it all sounds so official!}

“And don't get into any trouble!” Tony added.

[Let's just go already.]

“Wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Stark!” Peter grinned and took Wade's hand to drag him towards the door to the room. It had been locked but when Stark told Jarvis to let them out, the door opened and Peter pulled Wade through.

“Slow down, kid,” Wade said, trying to haul Peter back into a more normal pace.

Acquiescing, Peter let himself walk at Wade's side. They were still holding hands even as they left the building. Peter broke the contact to put his mask back on and he looked at Wade pensively.

{Should we leave him here?}

[We need to get to May.]

{But what about Wade?}

“What are—” Wade started, but Peter cut him off.

“If you get on my back I can sling us both around.”

Wade looked dubious. “You think you can hold me?”

Peter just laughed and rested his hands on his hips. “I don't think you understand the whole 'super strength' thing.”

Shrugging, Wade did as he was directed and got onto Peter's back, holding onto his torso with arms and legs. Peter started by crawling up the side of the tower, trying to get used to the oddity of having someone clinging to him. Wade's mouth was at the back of Peter's neck and he could feel the man's warm breath.

Then, with barely restrained exhilaration, Peter jumped from the building.

Wade yelled in his ear but Peter was grinning widely and the boxes were screaming with delight. Cold night air passed them by and Peter tossed out a web and caught them on the breeze, swinging his way through the city.

They traveled for long minutes, Wade a line of heat that was both unfamiliar and strangely comforting on Peter's back. Peter was just glad to be out of the tower, out of the mess. Sure, he'd have to deal with it tomorrow. But tonight it was just him and Wade.

Peter landed them on the roof of the hospital with a few minutes to spare. Wade got to his feet and then fell down on his ass, breathing hard.

Peter was grinning as Wade huffed, “Jesus, kid. Couldn't take it easy, could you?”

[If he thinks that was rough . . .]

{What a weenie.}

Laughing, Peter told him, “Yellow thinks you're a weenie. You should see me alone. That was nothing.”

Wade chuckled under his breath and heaved himself up. “I don't doubt it. Shouldn't we be on the ground?”

“No. I never go on the ground. You can go down if you want to follow me, but I stay out of sight.” Peter was shaking his head. He went to the edge of the roof and glanced down. He didn't see her yet.

“I'm not bad at tailing. I'll keep an eye on you both.”

“She takes the bus for part of the way.”

“I can work around it. C'mon, set me down there.” Wade went to stand beside him, looking at the ground far below. Peter might have smiled but no one saw it behind the mask. He made a knot in a line of web and Wade held onto it as Peter lowered him down the side of the building and into an alley, making sure Wade wasn't going to let go and fall.

He watched Wade make his way around to the doors Peter was waiting on and lounge against a trashcan. He probably would have pulled off the casual look if he hadn't been wearing his still bloodied shirt from earlier and no jacket despite the chill of night.

{He's so cute.}

[Cute?]

{Yeah. Look at him, trying to be all that.}

[Your definition of cute is different than mine.]

Yellow sighed. {He's cute, just take my word.}

Peter ignored them though he was laughing quietly. He watched as May left the building, not even glancing at Wade before she started making her way home. Wade looked up and Peter signaled with a finger at her. With a nod, Wade started following, far enough back that he shouldn't draw her attention.

Peter followed above.

It was weird. Having someone else there while he was watching over May. He'd never, ever had someone with him before. There had never been anyone to trust with knowledge of May let alone with keeping her safe.

{It's a little uncomfortable. But it's Wade.}

[It's just wrong.]

{We could get used to it.}

“We could get used to a lot of things when it comes to Wade, I think,” Peter told them softly.

[Jesus, what happened to us?]

{Cupid's bow?}

Peter grimaced but it wasn't entirely inaccurate so he said nothing. May was at the bus stop and Peter looked for Wade. The man had seemed to disappear for just a moment until—

[ _What_ is he _doing_!]

Wade had approached May. Peter was too far away to hear anything of their conversation so he just watched, horrified, as May smiled and nodded. Wade looked relieved and they sat on the bench together, chatting amiably.

{He's going to blow the whole operation!}

[This is bad. What should we do?]

“Nothing.”

{What? Nothing?}

Peter let out a long breath and he nodded. His fingers flexed against the bricks of the building he was sitting on. “We have to trust that he knows what he's doing.”

[I _really_ don't like this.]

{I'm with White on this one, Spidey. This feels really bad.}

“I know, I know. But I don't want to do anything rash unless I need to.”

[Spidey, not wanting to do something rash. Really, what the hell happened to us?]

The bus arrived and both May and Wade got on together. Peter watched through the window as Wade sat nearby her but not too close. Then the bus was moving and Peter was back to his webs.

At May's stop, she and Wade exited and waved goodbye to each other. May set off in one direction and Wade in the other.

{He's actually pretty good at this.}

[I don't like it!]

Wade doubled back before long and Peter kept glancing over his shoulder to see the merc in the shadows even as he kept close to May until she was safely home.

When Peter dropped to the sidewalk in front of Wade, he pushed a finger into the man's chest and asked, “What the hell was that?”

Wade shrugged. “I needed a way onto the bus. She helped.”

“You used my aunt to follow her? What kind of—”

“Hey, it worked. Plus, I wanted to meet her. She's a really nice lady, Pete.”

Peter crossed his arms. “Of course she's nice. She's the best.”

{Mhmm, you know that's right.}

[I'm still salty.]

Wade was grinning and he caught Peter playfully around the shoulders with one arm, starting to march him away. “How about we get something to eat, go back to my place, and watch a movie?”

“Fine.” Peter let his frustration out on a sigh and tried to relax. “Tacos?”

“You got it, baby boy.”

The nickname made Peter bite the inside of his cheek to try and keep from smiling. He failed miserably and his only consolation was that Wade couldn't see through his mask.

 

. . .

 

After getting their fill of tacos—and thank goodness for late night taco shops—Peter swung them back to Wade's place. They had been discussing some light topics over dinner, not delving deep into the whole mess of androids and contracts. That was for tomorrow.

“So, hey, whatever happened to that Madsen girl anyway?” Peter asked as they entered Wade's apartment.

“Michelle? Oh, I think she's back home,” Wade said distractedly, pulling off his shirt as he traipsed to the bedroom.

“You didn't kill her?” Peter was surprised. He had thought Wade had taken care of her.

{I thought we were going to.}

“Yeah,” Wade called. Peter was standing in the living room, taking off his mask and gloves. He tossed them up into the web that was still in the corner. Seeing it pleased some small part of him. Wade's voice continued through the apartment, “I figured we didn't really need her. She was pretty scared after your little technique but I decided to let her go once we searched her place.”

Peter was frowning but he couldn't really fault the man. He wandered towards the kitchen, glancing through the bedroom to see Wade pulling on a clean shirt. He loitered by the kitchen table, fingertips dragging across the wooden surface. He was thinking too hard, but he didn't know what to say.

“Pete?” Suddenly Wade was right there, touching his arm and with that concerned face looking at Peter again. Peter didn't answer so Wade turned him around and slid arms around Peter's middle.

[You should say something.]

Through unspoken communication, or rather the empty silence between them, Wade's mouth found Peter's and Peter's hands went to the back of the merc's neck. They kissed slowly, tentatively tasting each other. Peter liked the heavy weight of Wade's arms around him and had trouble pulling away.

But Wade wasn't through. He nipped at the skin of Peter's jaw and kissed his throat. “Wade,” Peter tried. He sucked in a breath when Wade licked at his skin.

“Petey, I wanna—” Wade's voice was low and he spoke right into Peter's ear before he bit at Peter's earlobe.

[Listen. I'm actually your conscience this time. Not telling you to run away, but you need to talk to him.]

{This is so _nice_ though.}

Peter could have growled with frustration but he knew White was right so he gently pushed at Wade's chest and said, “I-I think we should talk.”

Immediately, Wade moved away and looked at his face. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Peter responded quickly. He winced. “I mean, nothing is _wrong_ , I just should . . . say some stuff.”

Wade backed up a step and though he was frowning, he nodded. “Okay. Come sit down.” He led Peter by the hands towards his couch and they sat down, knees touching.

Peter felt self-conscious and looked anywhere but at Wade. “I, uh . . .” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “I really like you, okay? And I _think_ you like me, too, but I—why is this so hard?” Peter covered his eyes with one hand, his other one still firmly in Wade's grasp. “I'm crazy, okay? I'm, like, actually crazy, voices in my head and everything. And I really, _really_ want to try and be with you but I can't make any promises and I don't know what'll happen or how we'll react to things—I just don't know and I—”

“Peter, it's okay.” Wade's voice made Peter stop spewing words and actually look at him. He saw only an affectionate smile, soft eyes, and understanding. “I get it. If it ever gets to be too much, just tell me. I promise that I won't be mad. I'd rather you tell me to stop—whatever it is—than for you to just run away, okay?”

Peter felt ashamed. “I'm sorry,” he said, gripping Wade's hands. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I don't know how to—”

“Hey, hey, it's okay.” One of Wade's hands reached up and touched Peter's cheek. “Calm down, Petey. I know you left before because you were scared and that's okay. You're allowed to be scared sometimes. You don't always have to be strong and steady. Hell, even guys like me get scared sometimes.”

“Really?” Peter whispered.

“Yeah, really.” The gentle smile that Wade was wearing made Peter's heart melt.

{See? He definitely cares.}

[ . . . You're not wrong, this time.]

Peter let out a choked laugh. He shook his head and looked away but it was only a few seconds before Wade's fingers guided him into a sweet kiss.

Peter loved it. He loved kissing Wade. He loved _Wade_. And wasn't that a strange feeling, curling in his gut and making him itch with the need to both shove it away and get as close to Wade as was physically possible.

He picked which side of the coin he wanted more and shifted to throw a leg over Wade, plopping into his lap to kiss him again and again, desiring with every cell in his body to taste the merc on his tongue and feel those insanely fantastic hands on his body. He touched Wade's neck with his fingers, feeling the man's heavy heartbeat beneath warm skin.

Wade's hands roamed down his ribs and his hips to his thighs, pulling on him to get him to settle their pelvises together. The scarred man gave as good as he got, returning Peter's sudden enthusiasm with soft noises of pleasure and teeth nibbling on Peter's lips between kisses.

“Petey,” Wade whispered. He made a choked noise as Peter's hips rolled into him. “Are you sure you wanna—?” he tried asking.

[Are we good? No more talking?]

{No more talking.}

“No more talking,” Peter confirmed. He stole Wade's breath with a satisfied feeling and slid his hands across Wade's chest, his shoulders, and the scars on his arms. He could feel that Wade was half-hard under him already and though it made Peter a little nervous, he couldn't deny the hot sparks of pleasure in his stomach because Wade was getting hard for _him_. Wade wanted sex with _him_.

Peter had to pull away, aching beneath his suit. He looked into Wade's eyes as he took the merc's hands in his own and clambered off of him to his knees on the floor. Wade was watching with an amazed expression and spread his feet a little wider. Swallowing his hesitance, Peter leaned in and mouthed at the crotch of Wade's jeans.

The scarred man groaned and he retaliated by shifting the grip of one hand to Peter's wrist. His thumb dug into the skin there, over Peter's silk gland, and Peter moaned brokenly against his clothed, solid cock.

“That's ridiculously hot,” Wade muttered. His hips jerked just slightly, bumping him against Peter's lips. “Wanna suck my dick? Love to see your lips around me, please, baby.”

Peter glanced up at him. He blinked a few times but when Wade's words caught up with his head, he nodded and hummed an affirmative. He and Wade worked together with one separated hand each and managed to get the zipper down and unbutton his pants so Peter could pull out Wade's cock from his boxers, already leaking just a little bit. For a moment, Peter just looked at it, eyes tracing the veiny and invitingly pink flesh.

{If you don't get our mouth on that thing right now I'm going to take over this body and do it myself.}

Resolutely ignoring Yellow, Peter flicked his tongue out, catching Wade's slit, and he reveled in the shuddered breath that Wade let out. Peter tentatively licked at the head, twisting his tongue around before taking it into his mouth and looking up at Wade from under his lashes.

Wade was staring at him breathlessly. Peter felt arousal shoot through him and he lowered his mouth. He was gratified to find that that made Wade's head tilt back and he pressed his fingers tight into Peter's wrist where he was still gripping him. A normal man might worry about bruising but Peter was beyond caring and it felt so good, pressure on his spinneret rough, that he just wanted more.

Slowly, Peter took more and more of Wade into his mouth. He backed off regularly before trying to fit more, his lips stretched around Wade's girth. Wade was panting sweet little moans and Peter felt powerful. The taste of Wade was heady, bitter and wonderful and sticking in the back of Peter's throat.

“Pete,” Wade breathed.

His hips were lifting of their own accord, trying to chase Peter's mouth every time he pulled away. Peter stilled, moaning with Wade's dick in his mouth, as Wade's thumb starting rubbing circles into his wrist. His own cock jumped beneath his spandex pants and Peter desperately needed to rut against something but he was too far away to do so.

He took out his frustration by bobbing his head faster on Wade, pulling out from the man the most perfect and breathless noises. Peter was swallowing him down, taking all of Wade to his throat and meeting the little thrusts of Wade's hips, chasing pleasure for both of them. Spit was coating Peter's lips and his chin and Wade's cock and it was everything Peter wanted.

Then, Wade took Peter's other hand, the one he wasn't already gripping, and brought it to his mouth. He got two of Peter's fingers in first, tongue slick against the digits and Peter had the strange, ghostly sense of sucking his own fingers.

But Wade wasn't through. As Peter's lips and tongue worked his cock thoroughly, Wade's mouth found the inside of Peter's wrist and he all but sucked on the tender flesh.

Peter shuddered and he moaned loudly, voice vibrating around Wade. It was getting to be too much. The slick feel of a cock fucking his mouth and the foreign stimulation to his spinnerets was just too much. Peter's hips thrust into the air and it was so frustrating and so damn good.

He made himself pull off of Wade's dick to press his face into the fabric over Wade's stomach as he moaned and whined. Wade's tongue was flicking over his wrist and that was it. That was fucking it.

With a gut wrenching groan, Peter came in his suit, his pelvis rocking into emptiness. He was breathing hard onto Wade's spit slick and hard as a rock dick, the hot lava feeling of pleasure filling his veins.

Slowly, Wade lowered Peter's wrist from his lips. “Did you—” he asked, almost gasping it with surprise.

Peter nodded his head, unable to move much more just yet. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“Oh fuck.” Wade immediately dropped both his now aching wrists and he got one hand into Peter's hair to draw his head back. “Oh _fuck_ , baby boy, that's so fucking hot.”

Peter could barely focus on him, his eyes glazed, but he let Wade guide his face just a few inches from his still angrily hard erection. “Mhmm,” he hummed, feeling pliable and warm.

“Open your mouth,” Wade ordered. Peter readily complied, his lips parting as he waited for Wade to inevitably shove his cock back in his mouth.

But Wade just took himself in hand and jerked himself hard and fast, caught between grunting and whining. Peter focused enough to see the twisted and desperately needy look on Wade's face. It took barely a few good strokes before warm, pearly seed was being spilled over Peter's face. Some of it got on his cheeks and chin, some of it on his lips and over his tongue.

Peter waited until Wade was done, collapsing into the couch with his head back and breathing raggedly, before he licked his lips and _smiled_. Wade let go of his own dick and his grip on Peter's hair lessened until Peter could move away.

[That was kind of gross.]

{That was the _hottest_ thing anyone has ever done.}

Peter wasn't ready for the boxes to provide commentary again so he ignored them. Surging up, Peter kissed Wade's chin and gave him a peck on the lips. “You gonna clean up the mess you made?” he asked in a whisper.

Wade made an unintelligible noise but after a few seconds he lifted his face to actually kiss Peter back. He glanced over Peter's face and then moved his lips so he could lick up his own come from Peter's cheeks. It made Peter flush and he felt the stirrings of heat and lust in his gut again.

“Petey, fuck, that was . . .” Wade trailed off, seemingly unable to find the right words.

Peter kissed him to share the taste of his come and he lifted his hands to cup Wade's face. “How good is your refractory period?” he mumbled.

Wade groaned. “Christ, you're gonna kill me.”

“Nah, I stopped wanting to do that a long time ago.” Peter chuckled against his lips. His limbs were heavy with satisfaction but his mind was starting to clear and he was nowhere near done. “I do, however, want your dick inside me like yesterday and I think we should move to the bedroom for that.”

“Shit.” Wade's eyes traced over Peter's face and he must have liked what he saw because he gently pushed Peter back and started to tuck himself haphazardly into his pants and then stand. “I'm gonna need a little while,” he told Peter softly.

“That's okay.” Peter grinned. “Gives me time to prepare.”

“Oh Jesus fucking—”

“Go lie on your bed,” Peter told him. “And take your clothes off. Where do you keep lube?”

Wade groaned and he dragged Peter with him towards the bedroom. “You're not leaving my sight, baby boy. There's lube in the bedroom.”

Peter almost laughed except Wade caught him in the doorway and pressed his body to the frame to capture him in a hard kiss. Their tongues still tasted a bit like come and Peter desperately wanted to get out of his suit but with Wade's insistent hands on his ass, Peter wrapped his limbs around the bigger man and allowed Wade to carry him over the threshold.

Peter's feet touched the floor by the foot of the bed and Wade let him go to back off and pull his shirt over his head. Peter was enraptured by the mottled skin bared before him. Even when Wade was shirtless before, he hadn't really had the chance to look over the burn scars on his chest rather than his back. They went down his neck and across his shoulders, down past his left side ribs and stopped just above his stomach. Peter reached out his hands to touch, tracing the lines.

“I can't believe—” Peter started.

“It's not pretty, huh?”

Peter shook his head. “Not that. They're a part of you.” He tilted his head up and caught Wade's gaze. “I've never had sex with a man,” he admitted quietly, dropping his face. His fingers were pulled from Wade's skin by the merc's hands and then Peter was trying to pull his suit off with some help.

He managed to get the top off and he threw it across the room. When his pants were shoved to his thighs, Wade pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed and kneeled to pull Peter's boots off and the rest of his suit.

For a moment, Wade stayed down, his eyes looking up at a naked Peter with something unnameable. Peter lifted a foot and placed it against Wade's stomach. The scarred man was confused for a second before his hands wrapped around Peter's ankle and his gentle touch moved up Peter's leg. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to Peter's knee.

Biting his lip, Peter's hands clutched at the blankets at his sides. He leaned back as Wade rose slowly, running his hands over every inch of Peter's skin. His touch was mirrored on each of Peter's legs and when he was up high enough, palms on Peter's thighs, Wade closed the distance between their lips again.

Peter was in heaven. Nobody had touched him in _years_. Never like this, never so much skin on skin. Wade's hands were warm and slipped against Peter's flesh with enough force to say he was there but enough softness to be sweetly caressing.

Wade pushed him further up the bed and left him bereft of touch for just long enough to get out of his own pants and boxers before he was gloriously, wonderfully naked and pressing up against Peter's body. Peter felt sure touches to his hips, his ribs, up his chest and then two hands were gently wrapped around his throat and Peter tilted his head back, shivering.

After moving his hands out of the way, Wade was leaving wet kisses along Peter's neck. He nipped at pale skin and Peter's fingers ran across Wade's chest, feeling his way across bumpy then smooth skin.

When Wade pulled back for just a moment, Peter pushed on him, rolling on top and kneeling over Wade's hips. He was already getting hard again and Wade didn't look too far behind. Peter kissed him hard, their teeth almost clacking together. He groaned into the kiss, starting to feel impatient with want.

“Lube?” Peter asked breathlessly, leaving a trail of kisses along Wade's jaw to his ear where his tongue licked the shell.

“Nightstand, top drawer,” Wade replied, getting his palms around Peter's ass as the younger man leaned back.

Peter decided that a situation like this deserved the gross misuse of his inhuman abilities so he shot a web at the drawer to pull it open and another to get the contents. He threw a pen to the floor along with a box of condoms—after taking one out—but he held onto the white and purple vibrator he found, glancing at Wade with raised brows. The scarred man just shrugged and made a guilty face. Peter laughed and put that back, finally getting to the bottle of lube that he was looking for.

“Purple?” he asked, returning to kiss a path across Wade's face.

“It's a nice color. Out of the ordinary, you know?” Wade chuckled and flexed his grip on Peter's skin.

Peter shook his head but he was smiling and he settled back, opening the bottle to coat a few of his fingers. He knocked one of Wade's hands out of the way so he could reach behind himself. Wade held onto his thigh instead and Peter bit his lip as he managed to push one slicked finger into himself.

“God fucking damn,” Wade whispered. When Peter looked down at his face, he saw that Wade's eyes were wide and his jaw was tense as he grit his teeth, looking at Peter like he was the most beautiful piece of art he'd ever seen and he had an unlimited budget at the auction.

Peter might have grinned except he was trying to remember how to breathe. He stared right into Wade's profoundly deep eyes as he stretched himself. When he added another finger, he had to try and focus on actually moving his fingers and not just relishing the fullness of the stretch. Wade's fingers started traveling up his chest, pinching his dusty pink nipples. He left one hand on Peter's shoulder, thumb digging in under his collarbone, and his other dropped down to touch Peter's jutting cock.

His touches were exploratory, his eyes glancing down only briefly to actually look before he caught Peter's quickly unfocusing stare again.

“Oh, _God_ ,” Peter moaned as Wade slid his palm against the now raging hardness of his dick.

Wade smirked but it was almost too fond to be considered playful. “Good?”

“Shut up,” Peter gasped. He tilted his head back, eyes shut, and added a third finger to his hole. He was just out of reach of his prostate, but he was trying to open himself as hastily as possible now, needing Wade to get inside him before things ended too quickly.

“You're so fucking gorgeous,” Wade told him softly. His hand shifted from Peter's shoulder to his throat again, fingertips against his Adam's apple.

Peter looked at him with barely any restraint left and he took his fingers from himself. “Put that condom on right fucking now,” he demanded, voice low and raspy.

Wade looked at him for a few seconds with surprise until it morphed into lust and he jumped into action, taking his hands back to rip the package open and roll the condom onto his own dick as Peter readied himself. They worked together, Peter's hands against Wade's chest and Wade's hands around Peter's hips, lowering him down slowly onto the older man's cock.

Peter sighed brokenly when he was finally seated. Wade's eyes were closed, muscles tense like he was trying to hold himself back. Peter's hands slid down Wade's arms and took his hands, threading their fingers together. He leaned forward, pushing their tangled hands into the mattress on either side of Wade's head.

He kissed Wade with tenderness, feeling a dozen different emotions running through him. Wade trusted him, and wasn't that amazing? He trusted Peter enough to share this. Enough to hold him down and make sweet, sweet love. And Wade obviously cared something for him, his gentle hands and reverential touches showing that much. So Peter kissed him with as much affection as he could muster, recognizing the romanticism of the whole situation and loving it.

When he rolled his hips, Wade moaned. Slowly, Peter picked up a rhythm, using his knees for leverage and rocking their bodies together as they panted almost in sync. Peter had complete control, even as he held himself up enough to look at Wade, face slack with pleasure.

It was exciting. It was erotic. It was more than anything he'd ever imagined he might have with anybody, let alone this stupidly amazing man. Peter watched with lucid eyes and parted lips as Wade's expression twisted and contorted, his body twitching and jerking beneath him. Wade's fingers were holding tightly to Peter's but instead of hurting, it spurred Peter on.

He was just so full. Wade's cock brushed against his prostate every other push or so and it dragged against Peter's tight walls. He was warm, he was safe, he felt so _good_ that it was difficult to comprehend.

“Petey, fuck, Pete,” Wade whimpered. His hips thrusted up, meeting Peter's movements. Peter finally closed his eyes, face scrunched with the intoxicating feeling of Wade inside of him and underneath him.

“Wade,” Peter rumbled. “Touch me, please, fucking touch me.” He let go of one of Wade's hands, leaning forward more to almost rest their foreheads together, holding his weight now on his elbow.

“Yeah, yeah, baby. Whatever you want. _Fuck_ you feel so good.” Wade's freed hand moved between their bodies and wrapped around Peter's cock, making him let out a whine that was barely human.

Peter kept moving and Wade's head was thrashing. The heat was getting to be really overwhelming and Peter knew it would be over soon. He managed to get his lips onto Wade's, kissing him hard and almost manically. The hand around him was moving quickly and Peter sped up, chasing his own orgasm as well as Wade's.

“Pete I—I'm gonna—oh _fuck_ , Petey,” Wade babbled into Peter's mouth. “I can't—”

“It's okay,” Peter told him breathlessly. “It's okay, c'mon. Come in me, c'mon Wade.” He pressed their cheeks together, frantically rutting into him.

Wade wailed through his release, body locking up tight and shuddering. Peter had just enough sense left in him to look at Wade's face while he came and he got a few more rolls of his hips in before he pushed his head into Wade's shoulder and came, too, gasping for breath against the explosion of heat and ecstasy in his body.

They shook together for a few long moments, neither of them daring to pull apart as they floated down from the high of euphoria.

Peter felt Wade's grip on his hand loosen, but he didn't want to let Wade go. He didn't want it to be over. The hand that was between them moved so that Wade's fingers were gently trailing across Peter's still quaking muscles.

In a whisper, Wade asked “Peter? Are you okay?”

With his head still down, Peter barely moved. His entire body was tense, poised atop Wade. He didn't know what to say yet so he didn't say anything.

Moving very slowly, Wade pushed him over, slipping out from inside of him as they settled on their sides. He removed the condom and Peter didn't know what he did with it but then Wade was wrapping him up tightly in muscular arms and holding him. Lips pressed kisses to his hair and his forehead and though it took a few minutes of quietness, Peter finally relaxed.

He snuggled into Wade, hands moving to wrap around the back of Wade's neck and pull him into a kiss when Peter lifted his head. They kissed with languid lips, warm and swollen and Peter thought Wade tasted like something he could learn to really love.

“What's on your mind?” Wade asked after a while, relaxing back to just look at Peter and their eyes met.

A slow smile spread over Peter's lips. “Nothing,” he said. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Is that a good thing?” Wade looked a little concerned but Peter just nodded. “The boxes?”

“They're—”

{Holy _frick_ that was some grade A good shit.}

[Put that in the wank bank for later.]

Peter frowned. “They're back. They were quiet for a while.”

Wade chuckled and told him softly, “They were bound to come back. At least we know the way to shut them up is mind-blowingly-good sex.”

Blushing, Peter ducked his face. “Was it that good?”

{It was sooo good, hot diggety damn, Spidey. Didn't know you had it in you.}

“Petey, it was fucking fantastic.” Wade's laugh was buried into Peter's hair and he shifted his hands to hold him impossibly closer. “I'd say we should take a shower now since you got come all over me but I honestly don't think I can move much after that.”

With a grin, Peter shoved Wade onto his back and then cuddled up to his side. “We'll clean up in the morning. I'm really excited to not sleep in the sewers again.”

“Can't promise we'll smell great in the morning, though—”

“Wade, shut up and go to sleep.”

“Yes, boss.”

[He's not really wrong. Hygiene is important.]

{Shut up and let us bask in the afterglow.}

“You two shut up, too,” Peter mumbled. He let the last of the tension drain from his body and fell asleep quickly to the sound of Wade's heartbeat in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are so good to me. Bless ya'll for that sweet, sweet feedback.
> 
> On a somewhat related note, I always struggle with whether I should tag longer fics like this with all the porn tags I'd use if this were a PWP. Thoughts? Does it matter in a longer fic? Does anyone actually read tags?


	9. Epilogue

Peter was crouched on top of a lab stool, taking turns looking through the microscope lens in front of him and documenting what he was seeing in the notebook he had on the counter. It wasn't anything particularly interesting, he was currently trying to study the makeup of his own silk and compare it to Oscorp's stuff to see what improvements could be made.

{Somebody once told me, the world is gonna—}

[Oh god, anything but that song.]

{Row, row, row your boat, gently down the—}

[Somehow that's worse.]

Peter was smiling and he started humming the tune to the alphabet song, laughing aloud when Yellow joined in and White groaned.

The door to the lab slid open and Peter didn't need to look to see who it was. “I see you're back on your feet,” he said, looking into the microscope again. He adjusted the focus.

Fury made some noise of affirmation but didn't speak until he was standing by Peter's table. “Yes, my recovery is going well. I know I have you to thank for that.”

“Me?” Peter looked up at him, unsurprised to see the flat affect of the man's face. It was uncanny how spot on the android had been, but then nobody had noticed the difference until Peter.

{Well, yeah, it _was_ us that saved the day after all.}

Fury nodded. His hands were clasped behind his back and Peter heard the faint rustle of papers. “I know that Stark and Romanov finalized your contract, but I have one more thing I need from you.”

Peter set his pen down and leaned back, shifting so he was actually sitting on the stool. “What's that?”

“I have the file that my counterpart—” Peter snickered “—created on you. There's some sensitive information in here, Mr. Parker.”

Suddenly, Peter was frowning. “What kind of information?”

{You don't think . . ?}

[Shhh!]

Fury pursed his lips and then let out a sigh. He placed a manila folder on the counter between them. “It doesn't take an idiot to tie you to the deaths of your friends from high school.”

Peter was stock still.

“This is the only copy of the information which links their two murders to you and your subsequent trip to the hospital from self-injury.”

“It wasn't—” Peter cut himself off and he snapped his mouth shut audibly.

Fury looked at him with calculating eyes. “I don't want your excuses. I don't want your explanation. I want you to make a promise to me and I'll burn this. Only you and I will ever know.”

[A promise?]

{Fishy.}

“This can all go away—”

“What do you want?” Peter asked him coldly. His hands were clenched and he was trying to keep himself calm though his insides were all kinds of twisted up.

“Your word. That you're not going to break the contract we made. That you're going to refrain from killing another person ever again—even by accident.”

“My word? That's all it takes to convince you?”

Fury shrugged and his lips curled down. “That's it.”

{What have we got to lose?}

[We already signed the contract.]

Peter forced himself to relax. He knew he appeared blasé as he shrugged and said, “Fine. You have my word.”

Fury stared him down for a few long moments but Peter didn't back down and didn't tense up. Then, he nodded. He picked up the folder and moved across the lab to a burner. Peter watched him silently turn it on, catch the folder on fire, and then toss it into a bin. It seemed a little dangerous and unnecessary but Peter appreciated the gesture.

The director was about to leave the lab when he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “If you do end up breaking your word, Peter, there won't be a place left in the world for you to hide.”

Peter couldn't deny that those words were a little bit terrifying. Once he was gone and the door had closed again, all three of them let out a sigh of relief. “Jeez, what a guy.”

{Guess he doesn't trust us after all.}

[Why would anyone trust us? We're pretty untrustworthy.]

“Hey, I take offense to that! I never break a promise once I make it!” Peter argued.

“What's this about promises?” Stark's voice asked as he entered the lab. “I just saw Fury leaving . . ?” He left the question open.

Peter flippantly waved a hand and went back to looking through his microscope. “Don't worry about that. He's kind of like a scary stuffed animal. Nasty looking but still full of that plushie stuff.”

Stark looked at him blankly. “Whatever. Anyway, how's the webbing coming along?”

Peter frowned at his notebook, woefully not very filled with notes. “I have some ideas about it, but I'm not sure how to implement them yet. It would be great if I could just use my own silk for everything and package that, but I can't produce a fraction of the amount we need to synthesize.”

“You'll get there, I'm sure. I'll get out of your way. Oh and I think Bruce wanted to talk with you about—” Stark started leaving but he stopped abruptly.

{Oh no.}

[We forgot about that.]

Peter snickered and waited for the inevitable—

“What did you do to my lab?” Tony shouted. He turned back to Peter, pointing at the mass of webbing stuck up in one corner of the room. “Why'd you do that?”

Making a guilty face and then grinning, Peter told him, “I needed a nice place for a nap earlier and I was waiting on some tests to cook.”

Stark threw his hands above his head. “Unbelievable!” He stalked out and Peter could hear him muttering, “I let the kid have _one_ lab and he goes and—ugh!”

Peter was laughing as the door shut.

 

. . .

 

“Are you sure it's the right time? I don't really _think_ it's the right time and I'm a little worried about—”

“Peter, would you shut up and go ring the doorbell?” Wade's voice had a finality to it that made Peter pout. The merc was obviously trying not to laugh at that, but he still pushed against Peter's back, making him walk up to the porch.

{Wade is being mean.}

[He's got a point, though.]

{It _has_ been a while.}

“I'm still scared,” Peter whispered.

“You'll be fine. Just, go on, ring the bell,” Wade ushered. He was standing with crossed arms on the sidewalk and Peter looked back at him one last time, doing his best impression of a kicked puppy. “You're not getting out of this. Just do it.”

{Don't let your dreams be dreams!}

[Shut up, jeez, that meme is past its prime.]

Peter let out a long winded sigh and with extreme reluctance, he pushed the doorbell button. He could hear the ring echo through the house. Glancing over his shoulder again made Wade give him a raised brow so Peter just waited. And waited.

Then he heard footsteps and May appeared just inside the door, opening it like she was distracted until she saw him and stopped in her tracks.

{I'm gonna scream!}

[This is awful, oh my God. Say something!]

“Uh, hey, Aunt May,” Peter started, going for a nervous smile and failing miserably.

{What was that!}

[You couldn't have said something better?]

He ducked his head, full of shame, and prayed that she wouldn't do something like slap him or slam the door in his face.

She didn't do either of those things, actually. Instead, she reached out and wrapped her arms tightly around his body, pulling him into the most crushing hug Peter had ever felt. She just held him for a long time, until Peter's arms finally lifted to return the hug and he relaxed, letting his face drop into her shoulder. She smelled just the way she always did.

When they let go of each other, probably minutes later, May held onto Peter's elbows, looking him over from head to toe. Then she lightly smacked him on the arm and exclaimed, “Peter Benjamin Parker I have a lot of words for you!”

“Ow, Aunt May!” Peter protested, rubbing his arm though it hadn't actually hurt.

May was frowning severely until her face fell and her eyes started watering.

“No, no, no, please don't cry!” Peter brought his hands to her cheeks and rubbed his thumbs under her eyes. “Don't cry,” he pleaded.

“Where have you been?” May asked, very softly.

“Around.” Peter shrugged and then he felt bad. Well, worse. “I'm sorry. I should have come back sooner. I've been so messed up that I—I'm better now!” he told her quickly. He moved out of the way enough that she could see Wade, standing there watching them. “I've got a boyfriend now. And a job. And I kind of have friends. Or at least acquaintances.”

“A boyfriend?” May looked at Wade and then her eyes widened. “I know you!”

Wade joined the party, stepping up to stand near Peter. “Nice to meet you, again,” he said, grinning a little.

“Let me guess,” May started, looking between the two. Peter dropped his hands and looked sheepish. “You're only here because he encouraged you to come see me finally?”

{Good ol' May.}

[She always could see right through you.]

“Well, you're not really wrong, but—”

To Wade, May said, “Thank you.” Peter saw that her eyes were still misty and Wade's were a little too and he would have poked fun except May was touching his arm and saying, “Can you stay for a while?”

{Can we stay forever?}

Peter nodded. “I can stay for a while. Have you got any cookies?”

May laughed and the sound was so musical and wonderful despite the couple of tears that were finally leaking from her eyes. “You know me,” she said, pulling him inside. “I always keep cookies around for my boy.”

Biting his lip, Peter almost let her go once they were inside, but then he caught her in another hug, tight and warm and it felt so good to be hugged by her again. “I missed you,” he whispered to her.

“I missed you, too,” May replied.

“I missed you, too,” Wade told them, wrapping an arm around them each and making all three laugh.

{Feels good to be home, don't you think?}

[It's not bad.]

{Yep. It's good.}

 

. . .

 

Everyone was off doing their own thing and Peter was alone on the tenth floor of the building they were storming. The Avengers had had reason to believe there were Hydra operations going on and once inside, the team discovered they hadn't been wrong. So, since the A-team was down by Thor and Banner, they had called Peter and Wade to help and the group had split up, each taking different routes and floors and trying to weed out all of the agents.

Peter liked working top down so he was on the highest floor and had so far found just three people, all of whom were now incapacitated and webbed together in an office.

{I love being in action again!}

[Yeah, stretching our legs is pretty fun.]

{We've been cooped up in that lab for _weeks_.}

“I'm happy about it, too, now shut your traps. I think I hear someone else.” Peter moved down the hall he was traveling, scuttling along the ceiling.

Sure enough, there was another goon patrolling by some windows. He looked bored and was chewing gum noisily. Like the others, he had a sidearm strapped to his hip but he looked pretty untrained and to Peter it was seeming like Hydra would hire anyone with a name because their security was garbage.

{He won't be bored for long.}

[Can we have some fun with this one?]

Peter shrugged. “I don't see why not.” He smiled and it was the wild kind of smile. The kind of smile that made mothers hide their children and even criminals shiver a little bit with fear.

“Hey, buddy,” he called out, landing on his feet near the patrolman. “Can you tell me how to get to the—”

The guy was faster than Peter thought and pulled his gun, immediately firing two shots at him. Peter easily dodged both and shot a web to grab the gun. He turned the safety on and twirled it around his finger using the trigger. It wouldn't do to have it suddenly go off. Besides, Peter didn't like guns.

“Guess we're not in the mood for questions, huh?” he asked the guy, who was looking shocked. It took a moment for him to process that Peter was now in possession of his gun.

{Fast reflexes, slow mind.}

[What a shame.]

Peter tossed the gun aside and advanced. “I'm in the mood for a little fun. Aren't you?”

The guy shook his head and spluttered, “What the hell are you? Get away from me!”

“Calling someone a 'what' is mean, don't you think?”

[Still with the questions? C'mon Petey.]

“Whaaat?” Peter drawled. “I like playing with my prey.”

Those words made the patrolman's eyes go wide and he backed up, hands flattening against the window he was up against. Peter got so close that their noses were almost touching. He grinned when the guy swallowed his gum.

“Boo,” Peter whispered, and shoved at the guy's chest, sending him through the window screaming. With a laugh, Peter caught him with webs and held him easily, now outside the building. “Oh, dear, that's a long drop, isn't it?”

The guy just whimpered.

“Isn't it?” Peter asked again, tone cold.

“Yeah! Yeah it is. Jesus Christ, man, don't drop me.”

Peter breathed in deep through his nose. “Ah, I love the sound of people pleading for their lives.”

{Smell that fear!}

[Smells like . . . piss.]

{Disgusting!}

“Did you just piss yourself?” Peter asked, looking down at the man caught in his webs, a little disgusted and a little pleased.

“Y-yes,” the guy cried.

Peter laughed until he was rudely interrupted by a voice nearby saying, “Spider. I thought we had a deal?”

{Aw, gosh diddly dang it!}

[Right at the good part, too.]

With a groan, Peter looked at Tony, floating in his Iron Man suit. “But mom!” he whined. “I'm just playing around!”

Stark crossed his arms. “Pull him back inside before I do it for you.”

Grumbling petulantly, Peter did as he was told and dragged the patrolman up, leaving him laying on the floor with webs holding him and piss soaked pants.

“Always a buzzkill,” Peter muttered to Stark, pouting under his mask.

Peter noticed Clint appear down the hallway, bow drawn, but the archer relaxed when he saw Peter and Tony together. “Hey guys,” he called out.

“Clint! Tony is being a party pooper again!” Peter whined, dancing over to hang off Clint's shoulders, using him as a barrier between himself and Stark.

Barton let out a chuckle and turned an amused expression on Tony. “Are you now?”

“He was going to kill that guy!” Tony said defensively, pointing to the still whimpering man on the floor.

“Peter,” Clint admonished. “Were you going to kill that guy?”

Peter shook his head frantically. “No sir, no sir! I was just messing around. I like that, see, having a few good laughs.”

{Yeah, laughs!}

[No killing here. We promised.]

“Thanks boxes!” Peter said, smiling. “They're backing me up,” he said by way of explanation to the others.

Clint was barely holding back laughter and he looked at Stark with a shrug. “The kid's just weird.”

“That he is,” Tony muttered. He shook his head and went over the comm to say, “Job's all done. If you're all ready to depart, we'll be on our way.”

Peter traipsed behind Barton the whole way out of the building and towards the quinjet. Everyone else was already gathered and Peter bounded over to Wade who caught him around the waist with a grin despite the blood dripping from a cut over his eye and onto his SHIELD issued uniform.

“Wade! Tony was being mean and didn't let me have fun,” Peter complained, lifting his mask to his nose so he could press a kiss to Wade's lips.

“I'm sorry, baby,” Wade said sincerely, turning a dirty look to Stark. The man's helmet had lifted his face plate and he looked scandalized now that another person was against him.

“I'm not mean!” Tony told them all. He looked to Natasha and Steve for support but Natasha was trying not to smile and Rogers was paying absolutely no attention. “I'm not mean,” he repeated softly, looking put out.

Clint patted his metal covered shoulder. “Hey, at least the kid can't go public about it. Imagine the headlines!” He waved a hand through the air in a wide gesture and said in a heavy New York accent, “Tony Stark, the mean man behind the Iron Man suit!”

{Breaking news!}

[This just in!]

{Tony Stark revealed to be the meanest man in all of America!}

[Who is Iron Man? Why, he's the meanest superhero of them all.]

{Guess what they say about rich people is true.}

Peter laughed and tugged Wade onto the quinjet by the hand. Clint was grinning and even Rogers had heard Barton's quip, smiling to no one in particular.

“Well, they can't say you don't bring a little humor to the team,” Wade told Peter softly, pulling the younger man into his lap as he sat in one of the jet's seats.

Grinning, Peter wrapped his arms around Wade's neck. “That's true.” He licked away a spot of blood on Wade's chin and kissed him with it.

“Can you two leave that until we get home?” Tony complained loudly from the seat next to them.

“Nope!” Peter answered, smiling sweetly at him.

“Absolutely not.” Wade laughed against his cheek and drew him into another kiss.

[I never thought making Stark uncomfortable would be this level of satisfying.]

{I never thought kissing someone would be this level of satisfying!}

“Yeah, well, hopefully we'll do a lot of both and live a very satisfying life,” Peter told them. He looked at Wade, who was wearing an expression of dopey fondness. “Very satisfying indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Thank you all for joining on this little adventure and I hope you enjoyed! I had honestly wanted this story to be really dark but my poor sappy heart couldn't do it so have this mushy gushy garbage instead!
> 
> I appreciate each and every one of you and all the comments and feedback I have received on this. Kudos to me, kudos to you.


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